I know, it's been a really *REALLY* long time since I updated, but I've been busy. I have several stories going on at once, and it's hard to update them all evenly, especially when you have favorites among then. That, and I really don't know where I'm going with this one. If anyone has any suggestions, please REVIEW!!!

I don't own the Patriot or anything else that someone has already claimed.


Colonel Tavington, a tall, black haired, dark eyed man, sat at his desk, brooding. That bloody Martin had evaded capture yet again. He'd sent his best troops out to ambush him, and only three of them made it out alive. Three out of thirty. His men were some of the best the British Empire had to offer, and Martin's men were scum. Why did he not succeed?

The answer to this was as elusive as Martin himself. He knew it had something to do with his spirit. What he was fighting for. He also knew that this whole mess was, essentially, his own fault. That foolish child had rushed him, he shot, and this gave Martin his drive. Revenge. Now he needed another push, but how to give it to him? Then, suddenly, it came to him. His children. It was his child that drove him now, and it will be his children that tear him down. Tavington laughed out loud, causing his door gaurds to look up sharply.


Anita took her time coming out of her room the next morning. She really didn't know why, but she wasn't quite sure she wanted to look at Nathan yet. But then again, she really did. But she was hungry, so she really didn't have time to decide what to do. She dressed, then went downstairs. Only the two girls were there, so her worries were unfounded. After eating, she went back up to her room for a while, but then got bored and made her way to the balcony over the front porch. (A/N-I know there is a balcony somewhere in the movie, but I can't remember which house. Just pretend it's this one, please.)

She knew that it would have a different view than her room did, so her stories could vary themselves. Once she was out there, she set herself into a chair in the corner. As she settled herself, she realized that there was someone else there. Spinning on her heel, she found the perpetrator sitting in the corner exactly opposite her. Of all people, it was Nathan. She looked at him, then went ahead and sat in the chair she had prepared herself, determined not to be the first to talk.

"Umm..." She heard from behind her. "Hey, Anita?" She heard the sounds of a chair being pushed back. Nathan was quite obviously moving towards her, and her heart gave a funny beat. "Look, I know you're mad at me, and I don't know why, but if I did something wrong, I'm sorry."

Anita turned in her chair, and looked him straight in the eye. She debated a moment before smiling and saying "It's allright, Nathan. I don't even know why I was angry. I'm sorry too." He smiled too, and reached out for her hand. She took it, and they both went back to where Nathan was sitting before. His 'chair' was really a small sort of bench, made of wicker. The two of them sat out there for hours, sometimes talking, sometimes just sitting.


Allright, this has got to be the shortest chapter I have *ever* written. But I just can't *think* of anything to write. MAJOR writers' block. PLEASE HELP!!!!!!!

As for the useless poll that I've started adding to the end of every chapter of every story I write:

Why did you choose to read this story?
A) Good Summary
B) You like the movie
C) You are in love with Trevor Morgan
D) You were at my page and saw it there
E) I told you to
F) Read it? What? I didn't read anything!
G) It wasn't me!
H) Boredom. Pure and simple.