"He must be so tired, poor boy. Pain can really exhaust a person, I suppose." A woman's voice hummed as she brushed his hair from his brow.

"Pain and Laudanum, yes." Elisabeth agreed with a small smile, looking down as she watched Lafayette stir awake in the bed.

"Let's hope and pray he doesn't need it for much longer, then." The first woman replied, smiling as the young man opened his eyes blearily. "There's our darling Marquis."

"Martha? Que fais-tu ici?" Lafayette asked her curiously as he lifted his hands to rub the sleep from his eyes.

"Lafayette, honey, I don't speak French." Martha said with a small smile to the young man.

Lafayette just groaned in reply, not wanting to have to mentally translate everything and start speaking English that soon after waking up.

"Has he woken up yet?" Another man's voice asked as the door opened and shut once again.

Lafayette's eyes shot open at that and looked over at the man with wide eyes as George Washington walked over to stand next to his wife.

"George!" Lafayette breathed with a wide grin, looking up at the other man.

"I thought Hamilton and Laurens told you I'd be coming." George replied with a small smile as Lissa had to try and keep him from wiggling around in his bed and aggravating his wound any further.

"They said you would sometime. Never today." Lafayette replied to him, letting Lissa help him sit up in the bed after the woman finally gave up trying to hold him still where he lay.

"Well, I hope I didn't come at a bad time, then." George replied with a small smile.

"No! No, you can get here when you want to, it's fine." Lafayette replied, waving his hands almost frantically. "I am happy each way."

"Good. Now, son, did they tell you about a surprise at all?"

"Yes, they did."

"I don't suppose you want it now, do you?" George asked, glancing down at Martha, who gave a knowing nod and got up to get a parcel resting aside against the wall of the room.

"I do, Papan." Lafayette replied, letting the name slip without much thought beforehand.

"Well, go ahead and open this up, then." Martha said to him with a small smile, setting the parcel on his lap.

Lafayette nodded and untied the string around the parcel, pulling the paper-wrapping aside to reveal a new uniform, complete with a nice red sash. "Je ne comprends pas…"

"Due to your bravery and ardor at Brandywine, Congress and I have decided a Major-General's uniform would suit you best." George explained with a small smile as the young man looked over the new uniform.

Lafayette looked over the fabric of the uniform, his fingers tracing over it before smiling up at George widely, reaching up to pull the man down so he could hug him tightly. "I love it, mon général."

George let the young man hug him, hugging him in return, only pulling away after Lafayette had happily kissed both his cheeks.

Martha grinned as she watched the pair together, laughing a bit at the sight of the young man giddily shower George in more affection than he ever let another soldier show him at all. "Ah, Lafayette, I think you're going to break him."

Lafayette smiled happily to her before moving to unfold the uniform and hold the coat up so he could admire it. "Ceci est belle, je l'aime." He murmured, laying the coat down in his lap so he could trail his fingers over the wool coat and feel at the shiny buttons and impeccable stitches.

"I'm glad you like it. Mr. Mulligan had a great time making it when we told him who it was for." Martha said with a happy smile to the teenager, who looked over at her, the wheels in his head visibly turning.

"Mr. Mulligan…." He repeated, trying to place a face to the familiar name.

"Hercules Mulligan, sweetheart." Martha supplied, making the Frenchman's eyes go wide.

"Hercules made this? He remembers me?" He asked happily, suddenly remembering one of the first friends he'd made in America.

"Well, you make it very hard for someone to forget you, son." George replied with a small smile. "How does your leg feel, by the way? What's the surgeon been saying to you?"

"It hurts, but the medicine is help. The surgeon says it heals well and fast, and it won't be long until I can start to walk again." Lafayette replied as he folded the jacket up neatly once again.

"That's good to hear. With any luck, you'll be up and walking before the first snowfall." George said with a nod.

"I hope so." Lafayette agreed, blinking and looking up when he heard another knock on the door of the room. "Did someone come with you, Papan?"

"Not that I remember." George replied, looking over at Martha. "Did you see anyone?"

"No, not at all. I was here before you were, George." She replied, watching as Lissa went over to the door to find a bright-eyed young boy standing on the other side, holding an inkwell and quill in one hand, and a small stack of blank papers in the other.

"Hello, I'm with the Pennsylvania Chronicle. I was wondering if I could interview Monsieur Lafayette." The boy asked.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Lissa asked, letting the boy in to go over to the bed.

"Mademoiselle, que se passe-t-il? Who is this boy?" Lafayette asked confusedly, looking up at Lissa as she lead the young blond boy over to his bedside.

"I'm Patrick, sir. I was wondering if I could interview you for the newspaper. If this is a bad time, I could come back, though. It's just that you've been stirring up a lot of talk recently, and I figured I could be the first person to really write a good story on you. If that's alright, I mean." The boy said quickly, making the Frenchman's eyes go wide.

"Ah…" Lafayette breathed, overwhelmed by the sudden slew of English words. He looked over at George and Martha for help, his emotions clear on his face.

"He's a journalist, honey. He wants to interview for his newspaper. His name is Patrick and he wants to know if you're willing to answer his questions for a while." Martha explained slowly for him.

"I don't want to force you out." Lafayette replied to her, looking between her and George.

"Oh, don't worry about that. We had to go soon, anyways. I have to meet some of the other men and Martha's been making herself busy patching some of the clothes with the other women in the camp." George replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I promise our next visit will be longer."

Lafayette nodded and moved to hug the pair before they took their leave. "I'll let you two have your privacy, as well." Lissa said before leaning down to Patrick's ear. "Talk slowly and don't use too many big words. Be patient with him, his English is getting better, but it's not the best thing in the world."

Patrick nodded and moved to the chair next to the Frenchman's bed, getting everything set up.

Lafayette watched the younger man get everything set up, telling himself to answer only what he was asked so he didn't fall into his bad habit of prattling on and on. If the things he said would end up in a newspaper that would be read by a large amount of people, he would have to filter himself quite a bit, as he often did in the halls of Versailles. He didn't want the people of America to think ill of him, like his peers had in school whenever he spoke passionately and loudly.

"How old are you, Patrick?" He asked, forcing himself to start the conversation so the boy wouldn't think he was cold and aloof, like many other French nobles did.

"Huh? Oh, I'm fourteen, sir." Patrick said as he finished getting set up.

"Fourteen. They start tem early in America." Lafayette mused.

"Well, technically, I'm an apprentice." Patrick replied with a small smile.

Lafayette nodded in understanding, letting the younger teenager start with his questions.

"So, can you tell me about the battle that got you wounded?" Patrick asked curiously.

Lafayette nodded. "I confess, I joined the soldiers at the end of the battle. I got there as they all started call to go away. It took me a short time to get shot, but I didn't really care. I focused on making a uniform rendezvous point so the men could leave in a clean way. Some of the men noticed my leg and they carried me into this town to someone's house. They treated me there and moved me here. That was a few days ago, and I've been here since. I'll probably be here for a couple more months." He explained, forcing himself to speak slowly so he wouldn't stutter or stumble over his words.

Patrick listened and started to write furiously to make sure he took note of everything the Frenchman said to him. "Was that your first battle in America?"

"Yes, it was. Not for lack of trying. George didn't want me to get hurt." Lafayette replied with a small smile and a laugh.

"You're close with General Washington, then?" Patrick asked curiously.

"Yes, he is a Papan to me and Madame Washington is a Maman to me, too."

"How old are you, monsieur?"

"I just turned twenty about a week ago."

"Oh, well happy birthday, then, sir. Did you do anything notable to celebrate?"

"Colonels Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens shared a bottle of wine with me and I later learned that my wife is pregnant with our second child. I figure that's celebration enough for me."

"Your second child?" The teenager asked, a bit of shock evident on his face.

"Yes, my second. Our first is named Henriette. She's such a pretty little girl, just like her Maman. Oh! In my trunk there is a portrait of my wife and my Henriette you can see."

Patrick looked over at the trunk in the corner and set his notes down to go over and fish the portrait out, bringing back over. "They are very pretty ladies." Patrick hummed.

"Aren't they? My wife's name is Adrienne. She is my bestest best friend." Lafayette replied as he let the boy admire the painting of his small family. "I'm so lucky she chose me. I'm lucky to be loved by her. She will be so mad at me when I return."

Patrick jotted down a note so he wouldn't forget to write about the Frenchman's intense love for his family. "She didn't want you to come over here?"

"I don't really know. Everyone told me not to come, but one person told me that they said that to save face. Versailles, you know. Everyone worries about their reputations. I decided they did want me to, but just wouldn't say so so they didn't make the wrong people angry."

"Is Versailles a lot different from America then?"

"Oh, yes! It's so different. It is like, um….like a gaggle of housewives. Very rich, opinionated housewives who all think their opinions are the right ones. They don't all like each other at all, but they will never say so to them. Instead they just make snide comments and giggle about it like it's a joke. And there's a set of rules and a hierarchy among all of them that dictates who can talk first when talking to another person. If La Reine, Marie Antoinette, wanted to talk to me, she has to speak first. I cannot speak first, because I'm just a marquis. Sometimes I've seen her walk up to Madame du Barry just to stand there in silence for a minute or so until she makes a small comment about the weather and moves on."

Patrick blinked as the man started to talk more and more, scrambling to write his notes on the soldier's views of Versailles as he continued to ramble on.

"Adrienne doesn't mind Versailles, though, she was raised in it. I was raised in the countryside surrounded by normal people. I don't think I'll ever fit in at Versailes. They like to call me their little country boy." Lafayette continued on, only cutting himself off when he noticed how furiously the boy was writing. "Ah, I'm sorry. I talk too much. If you need me to stop, just tell me shut my mouth, it's fine."

Patrick jotted down everything, having to shake out his hand once the man was done talking for the moment.

"I'm sorry. I told to myself I wouldn't do this. I said, 'Gilbert, don't you go talking and talking again. You'll overwhelm the boy and make him think bad things of you.' I really need to learn to be quiet."

"No, no, it's fine. I'm glad you're talking a lot, it gives me a lot more material to work with when I write this story about you." Patrick replied, reaching over to gently pat Lafayette's hands to make the Frenchman stop wringing them out. He jotted down a small note on Lafayette's character, writing that the man was kind natured and intelligent, though he came off as rather shy and aloof and surprisingly unsure of himself. He was the kind of man who needed reassurance here and there that he wasn't being a nuisance or that his English was intelligible through his thick accent.

Patrick finished up after about an hour more, having filled each of his papers, front and back and deciding he probably had more than enough material to write a story on the young French aristocrat people were starting to talk about over dinner.

"Ah, Patrick." Lafayette said, gently grabbing the teenager's wrist before the boy could leave the room.

"Yes, monsieur?"

"Be careful out there. It's dangerous. Don't linger around anywhere. Walk with purpose to go to wherever you're off to. No one will aim at a child, but that's not to say you won't get hit on accident."

Patrick blinked at the warning and the sincerity in the man's deep brown eyes. "I will, sir. I hope your leg gets better soon."

"Merci, Patrick. I hope so, too."

Lafayette watched and waved as the boy left the room and sighed as he relaxed back into his bed, settling back into his regular routine. Lissa brought him food and a doctor changed his bandages. He spent a little time writing to his family after being given the Laudanum for the pain, then promptly fell asleep for the night. The process was repeated over and over again for what felt like forever, only interrupted by the few visits paid by George or Alexander and John.

September had shifted to October already when the surgeon declared that he could start on his therapy for his leg. He would have to stay in the inn for a while longer, but he could start getting up to walk every so often to regain the strength that had atrophied.

Lissa would always support him, letting him use her as a crutch as he limped along slowly beside her. She walked with him around the inn, first. Then, as he got stronger, they ventured outside into the town of Bethlehem, where she introduced him to some other members of the town. He liked meeting everyone, though he liked it even more when he got to meet their young children and watch them run and play, sometimes holding and talking to one or two of them when he was allowed to.

October became November and plans were made for Lafayette to leave Bethlehem and meet Washington at a farm in a small town just outside Philadelphia. Elisabeth knew he'd have to leave eventually and rejoin the war, but it still broke her heart to know he would be leaving and she might never see his smiling face again. As much as she wanted him to stay, she knew she could do nothing but pray for his safety and make sure he and his horse had plenty of food for the ride out of town.