#edelafayette

Gunshots. Steel clinking against steel. Hooves thumping, horses neighing and men screaming. Utter chaos everywhere around as me and the Marquis arrived, expecting a battle, not... Whatever this was. The redcoats coming from two sides, and the Americans retreating frantically.

We joined Stirling's division, hoping to aid and rally the retreating troops under the British fire, but it didn't last long until I lost sight of Gilbert. As always, too reckless for his own good, charging before thinking. Then again, he'd only recently turned 20 a couple days prior... I shook away the thoughts and instead focused on the situation around me, trying to do my job as I looked around hoping to catch at least a glimpse of the Marquis to catch up to him. I kept riding around and rallying the men, but no sight of Lafayette... Until a glimpse of his uniform flickered in the corner of my vision. I immediately turned around, after making sure there was nothing more to do here, and rode to him. Just as I was about to reach him, the British fired again and I noticed him flinch and grimace. Could it be?... No, no, I needed to stop thinking negatively. He surely wouldn't have been wounded as soon as he arrived, right? Luck wouldn't be that cruel... Still, just for my own sanity, I joined him and tried to aid his rear as we moved with the retreating troops, slowly but surely making it out to the reinforcements to reform at the south of Dilworth, to hold off the British while the rest of the army retreated. All while the sun was setting slowly, which was beautiful in spite of the situation. Perhaps it was even our salvation. After all, the redcoats wouldn't keep pushing after nightfall, would they?

The line was strained, but with the reinforcements and artillery, it seemed to be holding up alright. However, the British kept on firing and attacking, showing no signs of stopping anytime soon... As I was rallying the troops to hold the line, I suddenly felt a sharp, piercing pain in my thigh and I couldn't help but hiss. I glanced down, breathing through my teeth, only to find a red stain blossoming on the outer thigh of my white breeches. Scheiße. But I couldn't just stop and leave now, could I? Not when the battle was still ongoing, I had to hold on at least until that godforsaken nightfall... I clenched my teeth and quickly wrapped whatever bandage I had with me around the injury, as tight as possible, and continued on with my job.

Eventually, darkness came, and the redcoats stopped pursuing us indeed. I could feel my thigh pulsing with pain, the breeches undoubtedly now mostly a dirty reddish brown. Then, Lafayette barked at me to help him rally and organise the rest of the retreating troops, so I clenched my jaw and obeyed. Wait a second... Was that a wince from him? No, definitely not... My mind must've been playing tricks on me.

***

Around midnight, we arrived at Chester. I thought I could hear Gilbert talking to me, but I couldn't understand a thing. Not that I didn't want to, it was just all... Fuzzy. As if muffled. Not to mention my vision was blurry all over the place as well. The adrenaline must've been wearing off...

***

I woke up on some table. In what was, presumably, a hospital. I tried to sit up and look around, but my side ached like crazy, so I laid back down on the cold wood, choosing to instead look down at myself, under some sort of makeshift blanket. I had lower smallclothes on, and my thigh appeared to have been tended to already. Good. Then I looked at my chest. It was bare, and there was stitching on my right side— Why? I didn't remember being hurt there... And then I realised. My chest was bare. BARE. With all the evidence I'd hate to come to light, on display if not for that measly blanket. I panicked, looking around for anything to cover up better, but I found nothing. I could only hope that no one would walk in at the wrong time, or that the doctor didn't tell anyone, or that, somehow, Lafayette wouldn't come to visit me and see everything...

—Ah, Henri! You're awake at last!— I heard that familiar French accent from behind. Scheiße. —You gave me quite the scare when you fell off the horse like that, you know? I'd almost thought you'd keeled over.

I fell off my horse? I didn't remember that... I panicked again, unsure what to do. Respond? But how? Turn to him? Yeah, right, and let him see everything and alter his perception of you forever? I heard shuffling and uneven footsteps from behind. Oh no. He was coming closer. What to do, what to do, what to do... I felt a hand on my shoulder and instinctively turned around, the blanket sliding off with the suddenness of the turn. I saw Gilbert's eyes widen and cheeks redden, and I immediately covered up again, burying my face in my hands from shame. He saw. There was no doubt about it. He'd surely hate me now, right? No doubt about it...

—Henri, you're... A woman?— he asked cautiously, confused, but without hostility in his tone.

My eyes snapped open beneath my hands. Maybe not all hope was lost... But how would I explain this to him? I was not a woman, I was sure of that. I shook my head, took a deep breath and slowly looked up at him.

—N-no, I'm not. I mean— I was born as one, but I never felt such, and— I was just born with the wrong body, kind of? Like, um— Physically, I have female characteristics, but I'm actually a man?— Please don't hate me, please don't think less of me, please...— I rambled on. And he only smiled softly, though still looking a little confused.

—So... You're still a man, right?

I nodded. He leaned down and hugged me tight, then looser as I winced.

—Good. Then you're a man to me. Honestly, with eveything we've been through, it'd be harder for me to see you as a woman than as a man, at this point. Body or not, Henri.

I felt myself melting into him, tears welling in my eyes. I'd never felt so accepted in my whole life. So... Seen. So unconditionally, straightforwardly assured. For a while, I couldn't even speak. Only after a few minutes, with tears rolling down my cheeks, I managed a small:

—Thank you.

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