The Broken And Bruised ✶ Hamilton fanfic ✶ Lams

Kapitel Drei

    (German)

    The water filled his lungs, and for a few moments, all he could think about was the subsistence; the way it was fire down his throat, to the way it wrapped around his body as if it were a blanket. His eyes cracked open, and for the first time in a while, he could see the moon. The white globe reflected the perfect light that intoxicated him, and it began to lift him out of the water.

    He was so close to reaching the surface. The tip of his nose was barely an inch from embracing the cool atmosphere, until the ear piercing sound, mimicking some sort of shout, rippled through him. His eyelids closed involuntary, and instead of flowing through the water, he froze. Cold pricked his skin, and energy coursed through his veins. His eyes flew open, but instead of seeing the crystal clear diamonds a man associates with ice, it was red.

    He was frozen in blood.

    John sprung up in a fit of labored breaths and cold sweat. The wisps of his hair stuck to his forehead, and his shirt was damp. His hands quivered as he pushed off the blankets, needing a little air to calm himself down. With a groan, he rubbed his eyes and swung his feet off the side of the bed. He stayed there for a few moments, recalling what had happened in his dream. Soon, his thoughts became a noose and wrapped around his neck, with each shaky breath making the rope tighter.

    "Alright! All gettin off at Charleston get up here on the first deck!" At those words hollered out from above, John was on his feet and gathering up his luggage. He draped his coat over his shoulders, not having enough time to button it, and strapped on his breeches. As he slipped into his shoes, he grabbed onto his suitcase and satchel, and looked around at the room he called home for a month. It was more suffocating than he remembered, but now, as he traveled up to the first deck, it didn't matter to him. Everything would be different when he stepped on land.

    "Alright! Everybody off!" Everyone crowded around the edge of the boat, all eager to be the first to step on land. One by one, people stepped off, placing their feet onto the dock. Shouts of joy and amazement fuffiled the atmosphere, and John was yet to experience his new home. With the help of a sailor, he was escorted off the boat and left on land. The sand crunched beneath his feet, and each step he took was getting him closer to his destination. With a raspy breath, his eyes wandered around.

    "America." He breathed.

----------

  "Alexander," Laf said, which got Alex to shift his gaze up from the floor to him. "May I ask you for some assistance?"

    Alex nodded, "Yes, but I believe I already know what you're going to ask for." With a chuckle, he reached towards the far corner of the tent and grabbed a slip of papyrus, ink, and a quill.

    "You're a fool for knowing me too well," Laf joked, as he took the materials from him. He adjusted himself on the cot and began to write. Every few moments he dipped the pen into the ink, causing stains to start growing on the bedsheets from his spilling. Quiet drooled onto the tent, and Alex rocked in his chair impatiently as he watched him.

    "Who are you writing to?" Alex spoke at last. Laf looked up from his work and shrugged, "You know I have been writing a great deal to France to ask for some assistance, but now, I am enjoying some leisurely time and writing a story." His eyes brightened as he spoke, gathering up imagination and creativity; qualities a nineteen-year-old boy usually possesses. Alex enjoyed seeing this part of him since on the battlefield, he became a different man. One who sees only blood as a way to clench his thirst.

    Alex was about to ask him what he was writing about, but he had been beaten to it by his own answer. "It's about a story of a young lad, who met a girl named Marie," Alex could already tell it was about him and his wife, "And this young woman named Marie didn't know what love was till she met him."

    Laf opened his mouth to continue but clamped his lips shut as he scanned over the page. "I...I believe I have just written Romeo and Juliet all over again, but instead with me and my wife."

    They both laughed, and Laf crumpled up the paper and threw it aside. With a sigh, he relaxed back onto the cot, and once more, the silence dwelled on them. Like before, Alex had gone back to his fidgeting nature, but it had gotten worse. Every noise seemed more vibrant, and it was tearing him to pieces. It was as if he were sucking on pennies while a man pulled on his hair from behind. Laf had noticed the odd way Alex's face turned and thought it would be a good idea to address it. "Are you okay, mon-"

    "I don't understand!" Alex jumped to his feet and began to pace around in the tent that barely allowed him enough room to stand. "You're going to heal! Why is Washinton trying to replace you?"

    "Alex, he is not going to replace-"

    "So who is this man named John? And he's from Britain, no less! What is Washinton trying to accomplish? For us to look like fools!"

    Laf shook his head. "He is not British Alexander, he grew up in the colonies. He just went to Britain for schooling."

    "And you expect me to believe that bastard isn't a spy! He could be up our asses and trading all the information we possess to the redcoats!"

    "Your language is atrocious, Alex. How do you-"

    "I am done!" Alex announced, "I am taking this to Washington and that is final!"

    Just as Alex was about to leave, Laf snagged the cuff of his sleeve in a tight grip that almost had him struggling. "Please...don't do this, Washington has had enough tension throughout here. You ought to know that." He paused and took a breath, "This man is not going to replace me, mon amie, he is just going to accompany us as fellow aides-de-camp. We haven't even met him yet, nor written him a letter. Can you please at least give this man a chance? For me?"

    Alex was struck and was left dumbfounded. His thoughts swirled inside his head, and it began to pain him. His body became numb and the thought of this man named John hurt him. He imagined him as a monster with a red coat and bright eyes, and sickness settled into his own stomach. Alex took a deep breath and finally managed to calm himself down.

    "I will give this man respect, but I will not befriend him."