The Killer Angels (Close to myself and Starwhisperer)

I'm taking a few liberties with this character historical wise.

Name: John Reynolds
Rank: Major General of the Northern Union Army
Eyes: Cold Ice Blue
Hair Color: Black
Height: 6'

John Reynolds "perhaps the finest soldier in the Union Army. Like Lee before him, a former commander of West Point, a courteous man, military, a marvelous horseman, another gentleman. His home is not far from Gettysburg." (Shaara xiv) He is of a protestant family, not much like the Southern Catholics. John Reynolds is a young major general in the beginning of the war standing at a height of 6'. He has cold blue eyes and a stern angled face. He is handsome and charming, but not a force to be reckoned with. He has a strong opposition to the Southern way of life, but the thick lines of hate have not yet been drawn. Reynolds makes his way South with General Meade, Colonel Chamberlain and General Hancock to meet with General Lee to try and peacefully negotiate some terms, but ultimately Lee refuses and the South continues their plan to revolt.

xxxx IC xxx

The scorching sun of the South was relentless as it pounded down on the already weary northern soldiers. Chamberlain and a good portion of his division, brought more for protection than attack, were the one's most affected by the thick humid climate. Reynolds pitied them, being from the true North that is. The men themselves were from the cold dry climates of Maine. These men saw snow, cold rains and the gusts of March. They knew nothing of the extreme heat of summer or the thick humid nights of July. Luckily for Reynolds he at least lived near Gettysburg, the heat didn't affect him like it did these men. He dismounted from his horse ready to walk the rest the poor beast the rest of the way. His war horse was overheated and needed water, luckily for them they were already near the town in Virginia where Lee resided. Reynolds tugged at a few of the buttons on his uniform letting the air touch his heated skin. It had been quite a while since he left his post at the North, given the option to command the army was a great honor, but he would not accept. Instead he handed it over to Major General Meade who had accompanied them on this particular trip.

Reynolds pulled out a canteen and tossed it to Chamberlain who was yet again looking light headed. "Did the Colonel have breakfast?" Reynolds prodded trying to get Chamberlain to focus.

"No sir, I didn't quite have the time. I was trying to get my division ready." Reynolds nodded realizing that it must have been a stretch trying to get the Maine men up and ready for a march so soon after the illness had hit the regiment.

He watched as Chamberlain took a sip of the water closing up the canteen and tossing it back. Reynolds caught it with ease and Chamberlain smiled with appreciation. He knew that Meade wasn't the man these men wanted to follow. He had hear it from Buford a while back. 'Now Reynolds, that's a man they'll follow. Not Meade...' Reynolds would have smiled with pride, but he knew how that affected Meade. Couldn't have a man's pride damaged without damaging the way he commands.

Reynolds buttoned up his uniform and placed on his cap as they closed into town. At Meade's command he took his place back in the saddle as they rode in, greeted by the glare's of southerners. This was definitely a place where they were not welcome. Though every now and then there was a smiling face and a greeting of welcome. Just because these people were angry and seceding, didn't mean they weren't still hospitable. Reynolds rode on taking note of anything that needed to be taken note of, especially the women.

Abigail Blake woke that morning to a bustling household. Her mother was in a frenzy, giving commands left and right for cleaning to be done, paintings on the walls dusted and straightened. All of the large picture windows were opened wide, the curtains pulled back. The warm air wasn’t quite to the point of stifling yet, as it was still morning. The large plantation home was spotless as Abigail made her way down the sweeping staircase. Her hair was done and her clothes were immaculate; a lady always looked her best. And her mother had been training Abigail to be a lady her whole life, that was for certain. Something had sunk in after nearly twenty very long years, and she was more than ready to get married and be away from the control of her parents.

She wandered into the large formal dining room where her father was sitting, eating a large breakfast alone. This didn’t surprise Abigail. Her mother didn’t really eat. “Good morning, Abigail Grace,” the big man said cheerfully. “Have a seat, eat! There’s plenty, as always.” Abigail walked over and kissed her father on the cheek, as was their custom.
“Good morning, Daddy,” she said pleasantly, before taking a seat to his left. She took a biscuit and buttered one side, covering the other with some fresh jam. Abigail had to keep herself from moaning as she took a bite. The food was always so great. “What’s all the panic about today?”

“Some men from the North are supposed to be passing through today and your mother thinks it prudent to prepare in case we should host one or two for a meal or something. I’m not sure, I wasn’t particularly paying attention when she explained it. She was in a flurry of gown and holding a feather duster and I was a bit intimidated.”

Abigail’s father winked at her and she giggled, ducking her head and taking another bite of her biscuit, then a sip of tea. It was true, her mother was a bit tightly wound. It made for large contrast to her father, who was rather laid back and easy going, though he did have quite a temper, and he was fairly intimidating when he was angry. He was a large man, standing at six foot four and solidly built; very imposing, especially when Abigail was younger. She’d always preferred her father, though, not that she’d tell her mother that. And she was definitely Daddy’s girl. Being the only child of a wealthy plantation owner had some real benefit.

Abigail stood up, having finished her meal. “I suppose I should go help mother,” she said reluctantly, so much so that her father laughed.

“How about you go for a walk, Abigail Grace? Take your sun hat and a parasol; the sun’s bright today. Your mother would kill me if I let you go without. The army is supposed to be riding through town. Maybe you’ll see someone interesting and you can tell your future children about it. Just be back in time for supper. We’re expecting a certain gentleman caller for you then.”

She restrained herself from making a face, but nodded and kissed her father’s cheek again. “Alright, Daddy. Thank you.” She went into the room to the side of the huge entry hall and got her pretty white parasol, forgoing the hat. What was the point of both, really? It wasn’t like her mother would see her… Abigail headed down the front steps of the manor house, smiling and waving to the gardeners working on the flower beds in the front, then heading down the road and in the general direction of town. She sort of wished she’d gotten a hat now; the sun was causing her to squint her emerald eyes nearly shut, until she turned a corner and the sun was to her back. The slight breeze stirred strands of light brown hair out of the perfect twist secured with pins to the back of her head.

Day 1 without Luck

Reynolds removed himself from the company of Lee and his men. He felt wrong to ask of such a surrender from such a great General. After all, he knew that honor was more important than the possibility of death. That was what he had admired most about Lee. He knew the true value of home, the people who lived there and of course why it was important to go at every length to protect it. Reynolds leaned against the post of the General's porch listening to the men argue within. Meade was forcing the surrender offer on Lee and both Chamberlain and Hancock knew that wasn't going to work. Hell, I knew that even if Meade had said the Devil himself was going to fight the South, Lee wouldn't give in. Virginia was his home and there was nothing that was going to challenge that. He took a deep breath of the summer air looking out into town. The people were peering in his direction as if the plague had come in. It was understandable. He knew why they hated him. He was a "plu" soldier. He was a yankee who threatened their every way of life. He turned around and headed back in through the doors noticing that Meade's knuckles were white as he gripped his glass of liquor. Reynolds shook his head brushing off the dust off the shoulder of his uniform.

"Forgive the good General, General Lee. He hasn't gotten used to the weather 'ere and it's startin to get to his head." Lee nodded at Reynolds.

Despite being on opposite sides, the two of them had a mutual respect for one another. They were still human beings. They were still gentlemen.

"General Meade, I'm afraid I must retire for the day. I will join this discussion tomorrow as I would like to take General Longstreet's suggestion on exploring the city." Reynold's tipped his cap and headed out of the room before Meade could protest. As he left he could have sworn he heard Longstreet chuckle.

Reynold's mounted his horse. He noticed the glint and good humor it was in. It seemed that all it needed was rest. He ran his finger's through the horses main and gave it a light kick to get her going into town. As he rode through the streets looking for a small place to stop for tea, he thought about the chance of battle soon. John Buford with two brigades of Cavalry was trailing Lee's army. Lee was here with them, but his army was on the move, he knew that. Reynold's was well aware that at any moment, he would have to make his brisk leave and command the First Corps and Eleventh into battle to assure that Buford would not lose ground. This was a harsh war, men were already dead and he wasn't sure if Lee was aware that the North had taken out J.E.B Stuart and his Cavalry. After all their men couldn't afford that scout to live.

Reynold brushed his hand over his brow the white glove soaking up any perspiration. He looked down to see a little boy staring at him as he passed. Even that child was taught to hate him. Hate the blue uniform and hug the smoke colored soldiers that returned home. He looked away keeping his eyes ahead of him. That's when he saw her. There ahead not many paces away was a true Southern Beauty. He rode ahead hoping to catch a better glimpse of her and as he neared he was stunned. A southern Belle they called these girls. Prettier than the flowers that bloomed in the spring. He marveled at her figure. The pristine state of her gowns, hair and the demeanor in which she carried herself. Not much like the Northern women, who had taken to the modern living. These were the girls of the old country. Lovely. Reynold's kept his eyes trained on her emerald ones, but looked away suddenly. It was considered rude to stare and after all she may hate him like the rest of this town.

He smirked, wondering if she was the young lady that he would have to avoid at the plantation. Reynold's thought back to what Longstreet had told him. He would be staying at a plantation with a well regarded southern couple and their only daughter. Word gets around quick and if he wasn't careful he could win himself a hanging.

Abigail spun her parasol listlessly. She sighed and glanced around. It seemed she had missed the soldiers. She wasn’t sure why, but they intrigued her; tall, handsome men on horseback in uniforms (even if they were the wrong color.)

She gave up on her quest to find herself a soldier to gawk at and headed towards the general store, intent on spending a coin on a couple of peppermints or something else sweet. Her father slipped her money every couple of days for such trifles, which he knew she enjoyed. Abigail had a sweet tooth. She stopped just outside the General Store to greet a friend of her mother’s, and they exchanged gossip about who was marrying who, and about how Suzanne Crawford was supposedly pregnant, though her wedding was months away. She glanced up and there he was. The soldier she’d been looking for before. Though she was surprised that not only was she staring at him, but he was staring back. Mrs. Hayford, the woman she’d been speaking with, pursed her lips, but gave the man a small wave. “How do you do?” the older woman asked cordially. It was a good thing she was there; Abigail couldn’t find her voice. She took a step back, towards the store, her green eyes wide. She wondered who this man was, and if he was the one that had her home in a frenzy at the moment. Silently, she stood with one white-gloved hand on the handle of her lace parasol, the other hanging at her side. Her fair skin looked pristine in the sunlight. She reached up with her free hand and brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face, hoping that Mrs. Hayford would do the talking. My, he was good looking.

Reynolds was not often used to seeing such beautiful women, but he knew that the older woman probably didn't approve of his staring. He had to keep himself from smiling, he couldn't help, but stare after all. It was his way of commending her beauty. Reynolds dismounted from the war horse and bowed before the ladies. He was sure this was going to get a few stares.

"Ma'am, Miss." He said addressing each. "I am doing quite well. Beautiful town you've got here. Probably the best sights I've seen since I've been here in the South." He gave a quick glance to the young lady hoping she caught the undertone. Though chances were, she wouldn't be won over quickly.

"Forgive my manners, Major General John Reynolds at you're service." He said removing his cap and running his fingers through his black locks. He noticed the sign on the door and realized this would be a good place to get a few treats. After such a long trip he needed something to ease his nerves.

"I just stopped in for a drink and some treats before I continue my sight seeing. Though I won't be here for long, I must make it to the Blake Plantation before dinner, wouldn't want to disrespect them by showing up late, now would I ma'am" He said with a quaint smile his eyes still stealing glances at the pretty lady beside her. "Would you or the miss like anything?" Reynold's settled his eyes on the girl, a playful look lingering in them.

“Hmm…” Mrs. Hayford’s back was stiff. So was Abigail’s, more than usual, quite the accomplishment when you were already wearing a corset. She downturned her eyes to the ground politely, her cheeks heating slightly. She could feel his eyes on her.

“Mrs. Prudence Hayford,” Mrs. Hayford said, voice tart. And speaking of the Blake Plantation, this here is Miss Abigail Grace Blake.” At her introduction, Abby looked up again and gave a small, shy nod. She lifted her eyebrows at his playful look.

Before Mrs. Hayford could respond further, Abigail managed to find her voice and spoke up. “It’s a pleasure, Major General Reynolds,” she said quietly. She watched him carefully. “Mrs. Hayford has finished her shopping, but I was about to go in and get a few sweets.” She didn’t look to her mother’s friend; she knew the woman would be disapproving. “I’d be happy to show you around the store, and then to my home, since that seems to be your destination, regardless.” She didn’t smile, her face staying stoic and serious, regardless of Reynold’s playful and mildly suggestive (at least in regards to her appearance, judging by his tone at the beauty of the town) mannerisms. “It was a pleasure speaking with you, Mrs. Hayford. I’ll give my mother your regards.”

The older woman shot Reynold’s a suspicious look that clearly said he’d better not try anything or the whole town would know about it, including Abigail’s parents, then gave a stiff nod. “Please do,” she said simply. “Pleasure meeting you.” She walked off and Abigail visibly relaxed.

She stood there, watching Reynolds for a minute, before closing her parasol. “Well, come on then,” she said in a tone that was NEARLY an order, turning and walking with a perfectly straight back and head held high into the store. From up close, it was easier to see how very petite she was; her waist seemed to be impossibly small. She really looked more like a doll than a person. Her gloves emphasized her slim, graceful wrists and long fingers; piano hands, said her mother, which is why she’d taken lessons since she was a girl.

Reynold's composed his expression drawing in all seriousness and giving the stern look he had, had chance to practice over the many years. After years of getting a good beating from his mother, when he laughed or made faces in church or even having to compose himself in all sternness towards his men, he had gotten quite good at giving a poker face. Though he had to suppress the laughter. Mrs. Hayford was a very curious women, much like the women that kept his mother company back in the days. There wasn't a misstep that he had made, that they didn't know about. Even now, it came to much to their surprise that he was of such high rank in the army. Though like his mother and father, they knew he was fully capable of leading men. Mrs. Hayford was just like them. Gossipy and stern. Never letting a man get two words in without assuming he wanted a look up their hoop skirt.

Reynold's averted his eyes from the young Miss Blake. So his assumptions were right, temptation in the place where he didn't need it. Lee was really testing his patience out on this one. Reynold's didn't look back at her until Mrs. Hayford had departed, even then he kept eye contact at a minimal as to assure her his intentions were good and clean. Though he had to admit, she was by far one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. He contemplated the way to the plantation. He wouldn't allow her to walk while he rode saddle and even then he wasn't sure if that was an appropriate thing for a woman to ride saddle. Mother always said a lady should never ride a horse, causes miscarriages. Yet, Reynold's was hoping the young lady wasn't expecting or planning for any time soon as that would mean she had a man.

He hooked his hat with the rest of his "packings" on the horse and bowed playfully, but kept his tone completely serious. "As you command Miss." He followed her in careful that his eyes didn't drift too low. He didn't know how the women did it, suffering through the contraptions of a corset. They were the real soldiers. He smirked at the thought, but focused his attention back on Abigail. Even from behind she was a beauty. The twisted brown locks, shapely figure and the hands. He wasn't sure what was distinguishing about her slender wrists or her dainty hands, but it was attractive in a strange way. Reynolds averted his eyes again and looked around for something of interest. He was a very picky man when it came to beverage.

"What do you suggest to parch the thirst Miss?" He said quaintly noticing the chocolates away from the summer heat. He knew how crazy the women up North were for the little delicacies and he wondered if she would like them as well.

"I'll take a few of these." He said to the man at the register, who kindly enough didn't glare at him. Reynold paid the man and took the little box they came in and returned to following Abigail. He would wait a while before giving them to her, hopefully they wouldn't melt till then.

Abigail’s back was to Reynolds by the time he gave his little ‘as you command’ quip. Though his voice was serious, she rolled her large, luminescent eyes and gave a small head shake. “Right,” she said shortly. Though the words were short, they lacked any sort of sternness Mrs. Hayford would have packed in there; her voice was still quiet, her training to be a polite lady showing through.

“Mmm.. to drink? Well, Major General Reynolds, I’m not much for the alcoholic beverages, if that’s what you’re asking. I much prefer good old fashioned southern lemonade.” She smiled a little bit, thinking of all the glasses she’d had in her life. Her southern accent was charming and fit the softness of her voice.

She didn’t notice Reynolds buying the chocolates, eyeing the hard candy. She scooped up three wrapped peppermints; two for herself and one for Reynolds, to be polite on the walk home. She handed the man behind the counter her money and put the candy into her pocket, turning to look at the near-stranger who was going to be staying with her family.
“So you’ve had a long ride, then?” she asked. Her eyes positively burned with curiosity that she couldn’t manage to hide behind the sweet submissiveness that her upbringing had cultivated.

Reynolds smiled. Lemonade, quite the change from the licqour he was used too. Although, he would rather not arrive at the Blake Plantation reeking of alcohol. He decided he would postpone his thirst until later. After all the canteen of water and the drinks with Lee were enough to keep him steady for the latter part of the day. He was after all a soldier, things like food and water had to be rationed sometimes and those specific things had to be lived without in the midst of battle. He smiled in response to her suggestion, but figured he would have enough of that lemonade at the plantation. He was quite sure that's the first thing he would ask for if the hospitality was urging service.

Reynolds had drifted off following the young lady. His mind was already with the war as if often times was plagued by it's nightmarish images. He was startled when she spoke to him stopping him in his tracks before he collided with her hoopskirt. He nodded thinking of Chamberlain, poor Lawrence probably missed his brother and was sick of the weather down South. "Was a pretty long trek from Illinois to Washington and then here. Though I don't mind it, I'm always traveling, not really much time to stay in one place when you're a General." He sighed trying to remember how long it had been since he had been hope. Reminiscence was lingering in his voice as he spoke.

"I know it might not be proper Miss Blake, but I couldn't afford the dishonor of letting you walk home while I ride. So's I was hoping you wouldn't mind riding side saddle while I walked the horse to the plantation." Reynolds clasped his hands behind his back, an habitual mannerism he had picked up as a soldier. He had to remind himself to dust off the saddle before he allowed her to sit, wouldn't want to soil her dress. That would be a shame.

Abigail nodded, though she only had vague, hazy notions of where those places were. She’d never been further than an hour or two by horse-drawn buggies and carriages. “I’ve never traveled anywhere,” she said, voice taking on a far-off, almost dreamy quality. “It must be nice, General?” She gave him another small, shy smile, putting both hands on the handle of her closed parasol. She was done here; all she’d wanted were the mints.

She had ridden horses before, so was surprised, but not unwilling when Reynolds offered for her to ride side saddle on his horse when they walked back. “Well, that is mightily kind of you to offer,” she said, quiet and thoughtful. “I suppose that should be alright. I’ve ridden before.” Of course, her mother could never know that. Her father had taken her riding multiple times when she was younger, while her mother was at brunch with her high society friends. Abigail smiled a bit at the memory. “Thank you. Are you almost ready to go, then? I’ve gotten what I came here for.”

Abigail walked out of the store and looked up at John Reynold’s horse, eyeing it with parasol in hand. There was a set of steps for mounting a beast such as this right beside the store and she climbed up onto them, holding her skirts up to keep them from the dust. Reynold’s may have gotten a glimpse of her stockings, which were making her legs unseasonably warm in the heat. Well, that and the layers to her dress.

She looked to Reynolds, waiting for him to lead his horse over so she could sit. “Does it have a name?” she asked, smiling a bit and stroking the horse’s neck absently as it walked into place.

Reynold's eyed her curiously, his mind was still lingering over what made her tick. He was not much for the prim and proper, if there minds were filled with training garbage. Truthfully enough, he liked women who were beautiful, but if they had no mind for themselves then Reynolds had no care for them. He remembered Katherine, Kate, the northern catholic he had fallen for and proposed to. She was beautiful, until she broke his heart. It hardened him from the thought of women. He would not be tricked by the cunning minds of women. Though he had to admit, he was too much of a sucker for their sweet faces. Though there was something genuine about this girl, perhaps she had a touch of her father in her. All women that were worth liking usually had a touch of their father in them. Reynolds smiled at the change in her voice. Women, always looking for adventure. "At times it is, but I travel with the war. Not much time to see anything, up until now that is..." He bit his tongue reminding himself that this was the daughter of his host.

His stoic expression didn't change as he pulled the horse into place. Old Warhorse Lee. He chuckled to himself thinking about the old command under Lee. "I'm ready when you are Miss Blake. You are after all my guide." He pulled out the box of chocolates and held them out for her. "I see you're the hard candy type, but it was mindful thinking." He gave her a genuine smile. Something warmer and less playful. He was adjusting to being around the belle.

With a quick brush he dusted off the dirt that had gotten on the saddle during the long ride and extended his hand to help her on the horse if she needed it. He kept his eyes trained on his horse as he didn't want to get blamed for peering at her legs. Improper thing to do anywhere and Reynolds was sure he'd see nothing, but layers of fabric anyway. He furrowed his brow. I still don't understand how they do it. Suffer through the heat in winter layers and suffocate themselves in corsets all for the sake of being a lady. Strange, what women will go through for mere image.

Reynolds nodded. "Name's Lee. It was a joke back when I served Lee. We had this warhorse nickname going around and so naturally I named my warhorse after the greatest general I've ever known." Reynolds patted the horse on the mane with his free hand. It was strange thinking that he was fighting the man he so dutifully served.

“But still,” protested Abigail, shaking her head down at him. “You get to go places. You see things as you pass. Were I not… well… a girl… I would travel the country, from here up the coast to… what is it, in the far North? Maine?” There seemed to be a spark as Abigail spoke of her dream to travel. “I and see the ocean, I would,” she added.

“Oh.” Abigail was surprised as he handed her the chocolates. “No, these are just a bit more expensive than the mints, and the mints help my breath to smell sweet, too. I love chocolate.” She gave Reynolds a smile, possibly the first full-blown one. It made her eyes glitter and shine. “Thank you kindly, General Reynolds.”

She took his hand and climbed easily onto the horse, her legs dangling. Abigail adjusted her legs and skirts, holding onto the horse with one hand and her chocolates with the other. The lace parasol, she handed down to Reynolds. “Would you terribly mind holding that for me, and mind not to get it dirty. My mother would have my head.” She looked down at him, smiling a bit still, her cheeks slightly flushed from the gift of chocolates. He had very nice eyes. Bright and friendly.

“Lee,” Abigail repeated, tasting the name on her tongue. It was a familiar one, for certain. “He is the greatest General ever,” she informed Reynolds. “And that is why you boys are in trouble. ‘Least, that’s what my father says, and he’s always right.” She gave him a little nod, looking down at the chocolates in her hand. The horse started moving, and she swayed, moving easily with the motion of the horse. “Would you like a mint, General? I bought an extra one for you.” She unwrapped one one-handed and popped it into her mouth, then proffered one of the remaining two to the man leading her horse.

Reynolds smiled admiring her aspirations. If he could he would take her to travel with him, but not only was it not proper, but the war was no place for a lady. He sighed imagining her hiking up the rocky mountains, straddling a galloping horse at it went down the coasts of California, such a silly thought, but it was something he could see her doing. "Yes, Maine is up in the North, Colonel Chamberlain is from there, maybe I will fetch him and have him tell you all about it. Miss Blake, I wish those were the things I have seen, but with the war the things I see are different, much more different than you can imagine. It's why I enjoy your town so much, Lee hasn't let the war touch it." A solemness filled Reynolds eyes for a moment, but the sight of her smile was enough to warm him back up.

"Well darn, if I would have known those chocolates made you smile like that, I would have bought all the chocolates in the store." He said with a warm laugh. "Please, call me John or Reynolds if you absolutely won't. All this General talk makes me seem so important." He smiled recognizing that he was still a vital part to the North, but here he didn't want to remember that.

Reynolds took the Parasol in his hand and the reins in the other. He remembered his mother's fuss over her own parasol. Reynolds had stained it with muddied hands as a child... and well, Abigail was not kidding, these women killed over a simple stain. He would mind it well in hopes of gaining good favor with Mrs. Blake.

Reynold's smiled at her comment, but it slipped as he thought of the dead J.E.B. Stuart. The South was already in trouble seeing as Lee was flying blind. He knew nothing of the advances of the Northern Army and yet they knew everything about the Confederates. There army was spread out thin and if the North were to attack now it would all be over in a matter of days. Reynolds avoided answering the comment, hoping she wouldn't prod. He didn't like the idea of telling her that the North was ready to slaughter the South. He didn't want to dismay her with the idea that he, John Fulton Reynolds, was going to kill people she knew and loved. Reynolds nodded uneasily opening the hand holding the reins for the mint. The reins were still gripped firmly between several fingers and his palm as he would not have his horse gallop off with the lady of his interest on it's back. He wasn't going to let anything happen to her... Reynolds nearly choked on his next words, but managed to smoothly deliver them.

"I would be delighted. Thank you for your generosity Miss, I'm glad you have me in mind." He gently took it from her hand and unwrapped it. Popping the mint into his mouth. In all honesty, he wasn't sure why he had grown so fond of her so quickly. Perhaps it was the realization that she, like everyone here in the South, were no different from the people in the North. In fact, they may have been better. Reynolds tried to shake the distance of his mind, this was not a time to grow solemn.

“Would you really? I would adore that.” Abigail was obviously becoming much more comfortable with him. She smiled openly and easily down at him. There was a slight bulge in one cheek from the mint that she’d put into her mouth. “I don’t know what my mother would think, though. Neither she nor my father particularly enjoy my notions of traveling… sometimes my father will entertain my flights of fancy, but my mother, never. I suppose I’ll have to turn that offer down.” The girl looked rather put out.

She looked down at Reynolds, a bit confused. Obviously she was naïve to anything war-related. “It’s not like this, in other places then?” Abigail frowned a bit. What must it be like, to make that seriousness fill this man’s kind eyes?

Abigail flushed prettily when he teased her gently about her smiling. “I think that you would not have really done that,” she muttered, trying to hide her embarrassment. The light pink across her cheeks was truly rather becoming. “But General,” Abigail protested, “You are important. Obviously, if that’s your title.” She sighed, looking out at the trees bordering the road. “Well, I suppose John is alright…. But around my parents, it’s Major General Reynolds. It’s not really proprietary for me to call you John.” She paused. “So for now you may call me Abigail, but around them, it’s Miss Blake. Alright?” She paused again, looking at him. “Or, if you really wanted, you could call me Abby.”

She nodded a bit, looking away again. “It’s no trouble at all, really. I just didn’t want to be rude, Gen-… John.” She smiled a little as she said his name. “I’ve never called a man by his first name to his face before,” the young woman confided.

Reynolds eyed Abby curiously as she mentioned her mother's wishes. He nodded acknowledging the difference for women. It was all about marriage for them. Mother's prepped their daughter for the best husband and indulging in their fancies of travel would not suffice. He was sure that another male alone with Abigail would have been scandalous. She was taking risks just by talking to him. "I suppose someday when you're free of your mother's rule, I'll have Chamberlain tell you all about it. Or if you're feeling rebellious, I can fetch him regardless of your mother's wishes, though I don't want to get you in trouble. I just have a feeling you'd love his stories." Reynolds smiled trying to cheer her up. He liked seeing the smile on her face, it was calming. It was a change from the dead faces of his men, of other men and it certainly was enough to remind him there was a reason he was fighting. If Chamberlain's stories would make her smile, make her happy, he saw no fault in that.

Reynold's jaw tightened slightly. He had no desire to tell her anything of the war. It was just not something, someone as innocent as her should have to be subjected too. He looked at her with all seriousness, holding back the sorrow. "It is for sometime, until the battle begins after that all you remember are the casualties. I find very little in places that takes my mind off of the things I have seen, but Miss Blake, I would never forgive myself if you knew the horrors that reside within my memories." He looked away trying to lighten the air, giving himself a moment and herself a moment to collect their thoughts.

"Oh, but really I would Miss Blake. I'd trade in my uniform just for the sake of getting all those chocolates to keep you smiling." Reynolds eyed the flush across her cheeks remarking on the color. It was beautiful really. A soft pink across the fair complexion, like flowers blooming through the snow. Reynolds was entranced, wondering if her beauty could surprise him even more. "Of course, around your parents all formality must be retained. I wouldn't want to gain disfavor so quickly, but for now Abby will work just fine." He smiled at her, though his mind was in a hundred different places. He focused on the parasol, the horse, the war, but really his mind was dissecting his emotions. He didn't understand what at the moment was happening to him, but in truth, he was enjoying it. He hadn't felt at east in such a long time.

Reynolds bowed his head with a chuckle. "I understand, it's how you were raised. No harm in that." The same bashful and genuine smile crossed his lips. "Well I'm honored Miss Abby." His eyes lingered on her for a moment as he felt the tug on his heart. Abby was such a charming young lady and quite honestly he was sure how he was going to handle being around her for the next couple of days. All formality was going to be difficult and hell if he wasn't such a resolute man, he would have traded his uniform color for the sake of fighting for her.

Abigail smiled a little and shook her head. “I’m always feeling rebellious,” she informed Reynolds. “However, there’s a stark contrast between feeling something and acting on it. I learned to keep my tongue, along with the rest of me, in check around my parents long ago. I had a belt taken to me enough times to drill that lesson in.” Despite the obviously painful ramifications of that statement, Abby was smiling. “I was quite rambunctious and disobedient as a child. Oh, the things I did.” She giggled a bit, shaking her head. Her mother was so tightly wound, it was amazing that she hadn’t had a breakdown in the years before Abigail had learned manners.

She fell silent, looking down to him, then away again. She crunched on the last of the mint, the loud noise sounding harsh in their silence. In a tree near-by, song birds sang, and Abigail regained her smile. “Well,” she said slowly, “For now, you are here, and you can focus on that instead of those things, I’d hope.” Abigail nodded seriously. “There’s no use dwelling on the things that make you sad. A smile will breed happiness inside of you.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t,” Abby insisted. “And besides, I quite like your uniform, John.” Her stomach felt a bit… odd… like butterflies, when she said his name for the second time. She smiled as she popped the second mint into her mouth. “Despite the incorrect color of your uniform, John-“ she was really enjoying saying his name “-I have a feeling my parents will quite like you, as much as I like your uniform. I’m guessing favor is what you’ll have with them. I know them pretty well, you see. But I guess only time will tell what they think of you, mm?

Her slight blush returned yet again as soon as he called her by her first name; no, not even, she’d given him permission to call her Abby. No one had called her that since she was a child in lessons. Ever since she had come out to society, she had been Abigail, Abigail Grace to her father, and Abigail Grace Blake when her mother was irritated with her. She ducked her head. “It’s odd, to have you call me that, John. Odd, but good. We’re breaking all sorts of rules, you know. I shouldn’t be on your horse or speaking with you, and I certainly shouldn’t be calling you John or letting you call me Abby.

Reynolds nodded knowing all too well the feeling of a belt. Though as he grew it went from a belt, to open hands, to balled fists and finally to bullets, bayonets and cannons. It was strange to think of the physical pain his body had gone through all those years. Yet it was all to remind him of one thing, remain in line. "My mother was the same, my father even more. I guess as a man we don't have it as badly as women, but the pain is still the same." He laughed. "At least you needn't worry about your brothers wrestling you the minute they feel like they need a reunion." He thought for a moment and then decided there was more appropriate action than stealing away moments with Chamberlain. "If you'd like I'll tell you of my own pleasant travels, if we ever have the time like this. It'll be on more appropriate terms, for the sake of your name." He sighed thinking of Mrs. Hayford, wondering if she had gone off to tell the other women in town that a certain General was laying eyes on the young Miss Blake.

Where the gall or boldness came from, Reynolds wasn' t sure, but in a moment of empty thought, he placed his hand on hers. "Thank you. You don't know how relieving those words are." As quickly as he had placed his hand on hers he removed it. It was completely improper and would probably earn him a slap across the face, but regardless of the consequences Reynolds was happy. He felt the tug again, but forced himself from smiling.

He raised his brow at the sound of his name. It had been a long time since a woman had called him by his first name. It was always General or General Reynolds. The only two women he couldn't distinctly remember calling him by his first name were his Mother and Kate. His mother would call him by his full name when she was irritated and Kate, well she would call him John. Or on the affectionate days refer to him as her love, but that was then. That was past. It was amusing that she ended both sentences with his name, he was hoping the third would be the same, but two was enough. He chuckled nervously. "Well Miss Abby..." He said emphasizing her name. It was a very cute name and one he enjoyed saying as well. It wasn't like the average names up North, Susan, Ruth or Katherine. No Abby, had a ring to it. "Miss Abby, I hope that in time I'll find that I am indeed favored." He said saying her name once more. "I like this uniform as well, much more fitting than my Captain's uniform. Too many holes in that one..." He chuckled thinking of the patches that the poor seamstress at Washington had to sew.

Reynolds smiled broadly. It was one of the humored smiles. The kind he only flashed when he was truly amused or happy. It was the kind of smile that crinkled the eyes and flashed the set of brilliant white teeth. "You're quite right Miss Abby, but if I may say so, I believe this is what friends do." Although he wanted to say a little more and express the emotions he was feeling, he felt that friends would save him the pain of rejection. For all he knew she was being friendly for the sake of being polite. He simply couldn't afford to lose her company because of a slip of the tongue.

“That’s true, one thing I’ve never had to worry about was a brother trying to wrestle with me.” She smiled at the absurdity of that particular notion. “Though I do often wish I had a brother, or a sister, to keep me company. I spent a lot of lonely days growing up.” She still did, actually, but that was a bit too personal for present company, regardless of what they were calling each other. Just because they were on a first name basis didn’t mean that John needed to know the intricacies and inner workings of Abigail’s mind.

She actually jumped a little bit, her spine straightening further (if possible) when he put his hand over hers. All sorts of odd physical reactions happened due to that. Her heart skipped a beat, it seemed, and her stomach was positively brimming with butterflies. This was an altogether new experience for 19 year old Abby, who had two suitors but no interest in either of them, or anyone else beyond the crushes of her childhood, back when she’d been in the single digits age-wise. Propriety said to slap him, but it was such an awkward angle to do so, and they were already breaking so many rules anyway, and frankly, she didn’t have enough wits about her to execute something such as that at present.

She almost asked WHY he hoped to find that he was favored in time. Was he planning on courting her or something? That would be a very quick decision, and probably a bad move on his part, considering where they were from, respectively. What sides of the line they happened to be on. Who her father was. Abigail held her tongue.

“Friends?” she said, offhand. Her mind was clearly elsewhere. “Yes, I suppose. I’ve never had many of those. My mother makes me do brunch with Hattie Chestnut and Rosmarie Dupree, but I’ve not got much taste for the two of them, if you catch my meaning. Hattie talks like she’s plugging her nose all the time, and Rosmarie is rather reminiscent of a walrus. It’s rather unfortunate.” Abigail positively grinned, looking to John. “This is the drive.” She pointed at the graceful curving driveway that lead to a large, stately manor house surrounded by lush grass. Further back, behind the house and through some trees was where the planting was done, along with the few slave houses they had. For being so wealthy that had precious few slaves, something Abigail was secretly glad about, but would never say so because it just wasn’t her place.

“I would appreciate it, John, if you didn’t repeat any of what we just talked about while you’re staying with us. Mum’s the word, mm? If you can manage to keep your mouth shut, we can stay friends.” She paused, silent for a moment as they headed up the driveway. “Alright, General Reynolds, I think I should dismount before my mother sees me.”

He eyed her for a moment, not quite completely understanding the emotion she displayed. Though he understood prying would only push her away. He gave her a thoughtful look for a moment, but in reality knew what he was going to say. "I would lend you one of my siblings, but I'm sure my mother wants all eight of them." He said with a serious face, but the composure broke and he couldn't help, but laugh at the ridiculousness of what he had just said. Reynolds was after all 1 of nine children in the Reynolds family. He wasn't sure how his mother went through with so many births or why the necessity to have so many children was there. Though he supposed with three of her sons risking their lives in the military and the rest dying from some illness, he understood that she needed more children to keep her sanity intact.

Though at the moment that's not where his mind was. He was very much so disturbed by the rigidity of the silence surrounding them. The lack of Abby's hand across his face, was enough to make him want to do it himself. What in Lincoln's name was he thinking?! Reynolds straightened himself out as the heat began to rise to his face. Twenty-four years of life and he can't even think straight around a woman. Reynolds focused on his breathing allowing himself ample time to think. This wasn't right. She was a southerner and he was a General of the Union army. For a moment he wished that she had done as the rest of the town members had and glared at him as he passed. That way he would know where to draw the line, but now that all formality was gone, he wasn't sure if he wanted to draw that line at all.

Friends He thought to himself, though his thoughts were quick to combat that notion, he would remain resolute. It wasn't fair to put Abby through her own little war. He wasn't going to allow his emotions destroy the trust between her and her parents, nor was he going to allow himself to be conflicted by emotion for the enemy... but was she the enemy? She couldn't be... Reynolds took a deep breath not wanting to think on it further. As if the complications of this war weren't enough.

"Yes Miss Abby Friends, though if you deem it inappropriate or undesirable, we can remain acquaintances." He stopped in the driveway she directed and felt a sort of knot in his throat. He was desperately hoping she wouldn't deem it so. He held the parasol underneath his arm as to free both hands. Reynolds extended his hands to help her down as there were no steps here. She could hop down and risk dirtying the dress, but in case she didn't feel like hopping the full height of the war horse, he extended both hands to grab her by the waist. Though he was quite sure she'd refuse, as it would make her quite uncomfortable to be so close to him. He laughed a moment to ease the awkwardness of the situation. "Well I'd love to meet this friends of yours, they seem absolutely delightful Miss Abby."

"Miss Blake you have my word..." He wanted to continue speaking, but he felt that any more words would give him away. So he kept his mouth shut and waited for her choice of dismount. I wouldn't risk our friendship, even if the country depended on it He stared at her for a moment, knowing that this would be the very last moment he could lay more than a second of attention on her. During dinner and any leisure with her family, he would have to keep his attention elsewhere. Longstreet was right, there would be much difficulty in resisting Miss Blake.

“I very much desire to be your friend,” Abby said quickly. “I hope that isn’t one sided, General Reynolds?” They were too close to the house now for her to feel safe calling him John anymore. She looked down at him, nodding a bit. “Oh, the both of them are treats. Can you just pick me up and set me down? It would be easier, and probably better for my dress…”

She smiled a little at him as he stared at her, a bit confused by the look. “What? Is something wrong? Is there something on my face, or…?” She swallowed the last of her mint. When John picked her up, he would get a whiff of her scent; Abigail smelled of lilacs and gardenia, with a hint of vanilla. And, obviously, sweet peppermint.

As soon as she was on the ground, Abigail checked her dress for marks. Satisfied that it was clean still, she took her parasol back, opening it and holding her chocolates in one hand. A gardener came up and offered to take Reynolds’ horse, and then Abigail looked to him, wondering if he was going to offer her his arm for the walk up to the manor home. “So… this is where I live,” she stage-whispered to him, looking at the house. “Scary looking, isn’t it?”

Reynolds grinned widely at her remark. He was quite the lucky man indeed. "Not at all Miss Blake, Not at all." He hesitated for a moment as he picked her up. He wasn't sure what the day's ride had made him smell like. Though he was sure it was better than the smell of blood and gunpowder, it was still unnerving to think that he might smell unappealing to Abigail. He had hoped that his scent was normal. He remembered how his mother had once described it. 'Johnny darling, you're the sweetest smelling little boy with the sweetest little smile.' Needless to say, it was an awkward moment as she said that the very day Reynolds was admitted into the army.

He placed his gloved hands carefully around her waist and lifted her gently off the horse noting her lovely scent as he put her down. He couldn't quite discern the specific qualities of the scent, but he knew the scent of lilac in specific. His mother had smelled like lilacs and it was a very home-like, happy scent. Reynolds shook the dazed look from his face and reminded himself that his neck was on the line at this plantation. He smiled noticing the height difference. He looked up quickly, before backing off realizing how close he was standing to her. Were they not so close to her home and were she not a lady with manners, he would have risked her hitting him a thousand times for a simple kiss. "I forget my manners sometimes Miss Blake, can't help, but stare..."

Reynolds removed his pack from the horse's load and gave Lee a good pat on the mane before letting the Gardener take him. Out of courtesy and the pure desire to have her arm on his, he extended his arm for good measure. Reynolds laughed smiling a toothy smile. "A real horror house if you ask me, if I didn't know you lived here, I'd be running Miss Blake." He sighed taking in the surroundings.

He would spend two nights and a day here. Tonight, tomorrow's day and of course tomorrow night, then he would be off Gettysburg if Lee rejected the peace agreements. He wasn't sure if he should tell Miss Blake that his stay was on such limited time. Then again, it wouldn't have mattered. Regardless of his stay, his chance to court her was not probable. "So Miss Blake, if you don't mind me asking, why aren't you married yet? Girl's like you usually are off to the aisles at the age of 17." Reynolds hoped he didn't pose too much of a bold question, but really curiosity was biting at his heels.

Abigail felt her heart skip another beat and her stomach do a flip when Reynolds picked her up. And, despite what she told herself, it wasn’t because she was afraid he was going to drop her. She stared up at him, also noting that he was a good eight inches taller than she, before he took a step back. “I don’t know why,” she murmured, emerald eyes locked on him. “I’m nothing much to look at, General Reynolds.”

She looped her arm through his, moving close to his side. “Well, it’s a good thing I do live here, then. I wouldn’t want you to leave when you’ve only just arrived.” She smiled up at him, leading the way up towards the manor.

“Well, firstly, General, I’m not at all sure what you mean by girls like me. Hattie is engaged, but poor Rosemary hasn’t a suitor to her name, and she’s twenty one. Were I her, I wouldn’t have a care about it, but she cares. I feel for her. Poor walrus girl.” Abigail shook her head a bit.

“To stop avoiding the question, the main reason I’m not married is that I’ve managed to scare most men out of courting me…” Abigail didn’t bother hiding her smirk. “I’m too headstrong for them. My mother says that’s nothing to be proud of, but I sort of am. Regardless of all my efforts, though, I’ve got two suitors. One of them is meant to come to dinner tonight, I think.” Abigail wrinkled her nose. “Hopefully I can dissuade him from his interest if he does.”

Reynolds was lost in her eyes. He was genuinely falling for a girl he had met just mere minutes ago. It was a strange phenemenon and he doubted it was good for him. His hand twitched and he fought the sudden urge to touch her face, to brush his fingers against her flawless skin. If she was what he was fighting for, he doubted Lee would even have a chance. Perhaps that's what he would tell himself. He was fighting this war for Abigail Blake. Beautiful Abigail Blake. "Whoever planted that seed in you're head is blind or stupid, God forbid, if it was you Miss Blake..." He sighed. "There would be no reason for me to stare if what you said was true..."

Reynolds bit down on his tongue again wondering how many more times he would let something like that slip. Hopefully soon enough they'd run into her parents, at least then he'd have a much harsher reason to keep his trap shut.

Reynolds focused his eyes on the house ahead hoping that his rapid heartbeat wasn't audible to Abigail. Having her so close was enough to send him a thousand different directions. Her scent alone was driving him mad. Yet as she spoke, the guilt hit him. She didn't even know that he would only be there for the next day. Come Wednesday morning he would be gone galloping away to Gettysburg. Chances were they may never see each other again, chances were he would die without her. He smirked realizing how silly he sounded. He couldn't be so entranced by a girl so quickly, could he?

"I meant beautiful girls..." He said realizing he might as well get all of the "could get you killed" messages out before he had dinner with the Blakes. He chuckled at the thought of him running from the angered pistol-bearing Mr. Blake and the re-mention of the Walrus girl. He wondered if women could really look like that. "Well Miss Blake you can't have it all. See the problem here is you were born with the fortune of being beautiful and therefore have to have a misfortune to balance it out and that my dear is marriage." He smiled at her, but kept his eyes on the manor ahead.

Reynolds had to refrain from frowning at the idea of the suitor coming to dinner. In any case it would be yet another reason to keep quiet, at least then Abby would have someone she could really marry. "I see, I don't see how anyone could be scared by you. Any man would be lucky to have a bride like you, but then again I know you lack the desire to be married, so let's hope this man doesn't see that." He laughed at her menton of dissuassion. She was a very interesting character and he wanted to see how this dinner would pan out. "If you'd like Miss Blake, I can bring my bayonet to the table." He chuckled at the thought and mentally memorized the expression she had just made. She was a very cute girl, even when crinkling her nose.

“…………You really do need to stop making me blush, General Reynolds,” Abigail said after a long pause. Her face was a bright pink color, the blush sprinkled across fair skin. She would have hid her face in her hands, were they both not inaccessible at the moment. “I really don’t know why you keep calling me beautiful,” Abigail said, sounding for all the world like she was legitimately complaining about it. Her embarrassment caused her to keep her head down, eyes trained on the ground.

“I never said I didn’t want to get married, Joh-… General Reynolds.” Abigail glanced up at him. “I do. And I want to have children, too, I just don’t want to marry anyone that has attempted to secure my hand, so far. Those are two very different things.”

Abigail laughed, shaking her head. “That would be interesting. My father to my left with a shotgun pointed at you, you with a bayonet pointed at my suitor. That would be an exciting dinner. Oh, my poor mother would just die.”

They approached the large double front doors of the house and Abigail closed her parasol. She opened the door, seeing no point in knocking at the place where she lived, and leading John inside. “Wait here, I’m going to put away my parasol.” Abigail slipped her arm out of his and slipped through a doorway, disappearing from sight and leaving Reynolds to stand alone in the spacious entryway.

"Now why would I want to do that?" The General laughed. "I think the color is very fitting for you Miss Blake, it makes you even more... stunning. There I didn't call you beautiful." He said quaintly giving her a coy smile. "Though I honestly think you are beautiful Miss Blake." He looked away from her again his eyes glued to the Manor as practice for dinner. He reminded himself that he'd rather keep his eyes than lose them at the dinner table tonight.

Reynolds listened to the small clink, clink of his medals as they walked. He forced himself to think of other things rather than of his longing for Abigail, things like the war, if this war would bestow an honor onto his uniform, if this war would kill him, if this war would bring him any good than what has been brought to him at the moment.

Reynolds held his breath unintentionally as she nearly said his name. He wasn't sure why he had held his breath, but he was quite amused that she almost let it slip. For the last couple of minutes he had been dying to call her Abby or some endearing name other than Miss Blake. "I see, my mistake. I don't do well with interpreting other's meanings." He said bashfully. "I wanted those things once. I wanted to marry on those same terms for love, not because she was a suitable candidate, have children particularly a son and a beautiful daughter, but that was a long time ago..." He his eyes drifting away from the Manor into the distance. He had reminded himself of yet another reason to keep his eyes trained on his dinner plate. She was a woman and his heart, despite his belief that she was a wonderful woman, was at risk.

Reynolds eyed her for a moment, perking up from his distant thinking. Was there a reason that her father would want to shoot me besides myself being a Northerner? He chuckled and then decided to investigate further. "Ah, but if the suitor had poor intentions, wouldn't your father approve of my sudden need to eradicate your suitor? Why shoot me? Besides the fact that I'm a yankee."

He nodded releasing her arm reluctantly and watching her slip away. Most of the conversation from there on out would be limited and very bland compared to the way they had spoken during the day. Reynolds removed the pack from his back and set it at his feet. He then proceeded to remove the white uniform gloves from his hands and tucked them into his belt holding his cap in his hands to keep himself from fidgetting. He stood there silently admiring the architecture of the building, but toiling in the silence of enemy ground.