Author's Notes: This strange little offering resulted from my mental wanderings while working on my longer and more serious tavfic, which is currently an unnamed work in progress. I've tried to create a plausible prequel to the plotline of the movie, but the characterizations are...well...a little different (hence the humor classification)! This story contains a brief reference to a new character I note as being Colonel Tavington's 3^rd in command. Since Wilkins was introduced in the film, I decided to invent his predecessor (who presumably was killed shortly before...though I've allowed for that as well!). On a whole, it's pretty tongue-in-cheek and not historically accurate. Tons of thanks to Janeen for giving this a read-through, and helping me work up the courage to share it! Hope you guys enjoy it!

~Julie (mokonakawaii3@yahoo.com) Written 7/26/02 - 7/27/02

Plot Summary: This story is set in mid-May of 1780, making it a little over a month before the action in the movie, and is an alternate explanation for Colonel Tavington's perpetual bad mood and ruthlessness. Perhaps clothes do make the man...

Colonel Tavington straightened his streamlined green uniform jacket and surveyed himself in the mirror. A wide grin of satisfaction spread across his face, as he was highly pleased with the image that looked back at him. The rich green color of the wool was quite effective in complimenting the pale green of his eyes, and contrasted nicely with his dark hair. He was well aware of the fact that he cut an impressive figure in full uniform, and took particular pride in the fine fit of his well-tailored jacket.

Normally he would never have made such an effort in getting prepared for a simple officers' meeting, but this was to be his first meeting with the army's new commander and he wanted to make a good impression. Colonel Tavington's Dragoon unit was encamped twenty miles north of Charles Town, in the small South Carolina town of Belle's View. A large contingent of King's Legion infantry under General Charles O'Hara, and a second unit of Dragoons commanded by Colonel Banastre Tarleton were also stationed in the vicinity, and their unit commanders had similarly been summoned to the meeting. They'd received a dispatch from Sir Henry Clinton a few days earlier, advising them of the Lord General Cornwallis' impending arrival and requesting all officers be present to brief their new commander on the status of local operations.

The note also mentioned ambiguously, that certain "changes" would be going into effect along with the change in command. This was normal, and Tavington didn't give it a second thought. All Generals had a particular way they liked things organized, and it would just be a matter of time before the army as a whole adjusted to the habits of their new commander.

Colonel Tavington quickly checked the shine on his boots, grinning at his reflection in the highly polished black leather. He was in a wonderful mood and looked forward to the meeting. After serving in the war of the colonies since it's beginning four years earlier, Tavington had a spotless record and had received numerous commendations for bravery and taking initiative while leading his division during the northern campaigns in New York and Massachusetts. Now that resistance in those northern colonies was basically extinguished, much of the army was moving south by land and sea with the intention of bringing an end to the rebellion, once and for all.

In Tavington's opinion, the war was practically over. He couldn't quite understand why Sir Clinton was handing over his command to Lord Cornwallis when victory was so clearly in sight, but from what he'd heard of the Lord General's military reputation, he would be a more than adequate replacement.

Finally satisfied with his appearance, Colonel Tavington retrieved his helmet and gloves from a nearby table before opening the door of his room and walking out into the hallway. He and his junior officers were temporarily residing in the home of a Loyalist family. It was a small but quaint house, and the family was generous in their hospitality, considering it their patriotic duty and privilege to ensure the comfort of His Majesty's officers.

Proceeding down the hall, Tavington passed one of the family's maids and nodded to her in a friendly manner. The girl was arranging a bouquet of fresh flowers in a vase set on one of the small tables pushed against the wall of the hallway. As he swept past her, he snagged a small yellow daisy, careful not to disturb the rest of the arrangement. Humming a lively little tune in time with his steps, he trotted down the stairs and out the front door.

Pausing a moment on the porch to slip the flower between two buttons on the front of his jacket, Tavington glanced around the yard. He spotted his second and third in command, Captains Frederick Bordon and Joshua Miles, leading their horses around the side of the house from the small stable in the back. After a moment they were followed by a male servant leading Tavington's mount. Colonel Tavington waved a cheerful greeting to the men, and they nodded back acknowledgement.

"And how are my two favorite Captains this fine morning?" Tavington chimed, a huge grin on his face as he accepted the reins of his horse from the servant.

Bordon and Miles cast sidelong glances at one another and resisted the urge to roll their eyes. Instead they did their best to match their commanders grin and muttered, "Fine, sir," in unison.

Colonel Tavington mounted smoothly, and the two Captains followed suit. They, like Tavington, were dressed in clean field uniforms consisting of the same solid green jacket and white breeches. The three men donned their fur-crested helmets and pulled on their riding gloves, then turned their mounts and rode off down the street.

After a two-hour ride, broken up intermittently by Tavington's need to stop along the way, once to rescue a cat from a tree and again to help an old colonial woman carry a large bundle of purchases home from a merchant's shop, the three Dragoons arrived in the nearby town of Nelson's Ferry, where the meeting was to take place. They quickly sought out the largest house in town, which the new Lord General had chosen as his temporary headquarters. They dismounted and handed their horses off to waiting attendants before approaching the door, which was open and guarded by several soldiers. The Sergeant in charge of the entry-guard asked their names, ranks and business, and after receiving Tavington's chipper reply, turned and led them through the house to the large dining room, where the other officers were assembled.

As they entered the room, General Cornwallis looked up from his place at the far end of the large dining room table, where he sat with the other officers arrayed on both sides of the table in front of him. A look of annoyance crossed his features as he noted their entry. Tavington strode to the near end of the table and stood facing the new commander, clicking the heels of his boots together smartly as he came to a stop.

"Well, well, this must be Colonel Tavington," Cornwallis spoke, his voice measured and dripping with obvious displeasure. "Kind of you to grace us with your presence, albeit an hour late!"

Tavington shuffled his feet slightly and looked down, as he felt the General's reproachful stare bore into him. A smug smile spread across the face of General O'Hara, seated on Cornwallis' right.

"I apologize, sir," Tavington said, forcing a charming grin, "but I'm afraid we were delayed by..."

"I don't care to hear your excuses, Colonel," Cornwallis snapped. "Your fellow officers who chose to arrive at this meeting on time have given me their reports, and as I don't desire to linger here any longer than necessary, if you believe you have anything to add please submit your report to me in writing." The General looked down at some papers scattered on the table in front of him before continuing, "If you bothered to read Sir Clinton's dispatch, you know that I intend on making a few changes around here as I assume command." Cornwallis nodded to Banastre Tarleton seated on his left and then returned his gaze to Tavington, "As I now have two complete Dragoon brigades under my authority, I've decided to issue your group, Colonel Tavington, with new uniforms for the sake of being able to distinguish between the two more easily on the battlefield." Cornwallis raised a hand and signaled over his shoulder. A private stepped forward, holding up a green and red uniform jacket.

Tavington's expression deadpanned. His eyes darted back and forth from the jacket to the General. Suddenly a strangled gurgle noise issued from his throat and Tavington fainted, hitting the wooden floor with a dull thump.

Cornwallis rolled his eyes, and Captain Bordon, standing slightly behind Tavington looked down at his commander with a mixture of amusement and irritation. Bordon stepped forward over the body of his unconscious commander and examined the jacket, still held by the private, before pulling his green jacket off and donning the new one. He was straightening the collar and examining the fit when an odd change came over his expression.

Bordon turned and looked back at Tavington, who was now twitching slightly on the floor and muttering something about 'bloody Christmas-elves.' Signaling to Captain Miles, Bordon stooped over and started to pull Tavington off the floor. The two men managed to lift him to a chair, and the Colonel's head lolled forward. Bordon unbuttoned Tavington's jacket and slid it off him, trying to ease his breathing. The flower Tavington stuck between the buttons earlier fell to the floor unnoticed.

"What...hey!" Tavington came-to suddenly, his eyes clouded and groggy. He straightened up in his chair and looked down at himself then around the room, obviously disoriented. "Why the hell am I out of uniform?!" Tavington panicked. Seeing a second private standing nearby with another of the new jackets, Tavington pounced at the man and snatched it from him, pulling the garment on hastily. It was rather too large for him, but Tavington judged quickly that it could be tailored down to fit better. Fastening the buttons calmly, he suddenly became aware of the other officers in the room staring at him, confused expressions on their faces.

"Please excuse me, Gentlemen," Tavington said coolly. "I'm not quite sure what came over me..." There was something greatly changed about his manner. Tavington grinned confidently, but there was a chill in his eyes, which now looked more blue than green. He finished straightening the new uniform and stood back to attention before addressing Cornwallis. "You will have my report by tomorrow, Sir. May I ask when the rest of my men will be issued with these new uniforms?"

Cornwallis cleared his throat audibly, the annoyed expression returning to his face as he spoke, "A sufficient number are already loaded into a wagon waiting for you outside. Since both your second and third in command are present here today, I assume you left your men without proper supervision and advise you to return to them immediately, Colonel. I also strongly suggest you reassess your reasons for being here, as I will not tolerate derelict officers under my command. You are dismissed, Gentlemen."

Tavington seethed inwardly but nodded a curt acknowledgement. The officers seated at the table stood and filed out of the room. Casting a vicious glare in the direction of Captain Bordon and Captain Miles, Tavington strode toward the door, his boot heel crushing the flower on the floor.

Once outside, the three men located the wagon of new uniforms and then retrieved their horses. Miles unbundled one of the new jackets inside and pulled it on, before mounting his horse and following Tavington's lead down the street. A pair of infantry privates drove the wagon in their wake.

The ride back to Belle's View took twenty minutes, as the group made no stops despite the pleas of Captain Miles, who seemed to be having a severe allergic reaction to the material lining his new green and red coat. Turning into the Dragoon's encampment, they could see most of their men were up and about in various states of dress; playing cards, picking flowers and cleaning their weapons. The men looked up from their tasks in interest at the return of their commanders and the wagon that followed. Tavington rode front and center of the group, and the men gathered around him.

Captain Miles chose this opportunity to fall off his horse in a dead faint, his face puffy and a strangely mottled with red spots. Colonel Tavington sighed and rolled his eyes, signaling a pair of young Dragoons to haul the Captain to his tent.

"As you may have guessed by our appearance, the Lord General Cornwallis has decided to issue our brigade with new uniforms." Tavington's voice was firm and measured as he gestured to the wagon, which rumbled to a stop nearby. The two infantrymen who'd driven it there hopped down from their seat in the front and walked around the back of the wagon to begin distributing the bundled uniforms. The Dragoons watched with mixed expressions, but Tavington was quick to pull them back to attention.

"Get dressed and see to your horses," he said commandingly. There was a dark and hard edge to his voice that the men had never heard from him before. They saw a frightening coldness fill their commander's eyes as a wicked grin spread across his face before he concluded.

"There's work to be done..."

THE END