Zero Two Three One | John Laurens X Reader [Hamilton]

XXXVI: Fifty-Six Ships Left Behind

❝Disobedience is the true foundation of liberty. The obedient must be slaves.❞
—Henry David Thoreau

Uniform chaos.

It's an onomatopoeia. Or perhaps a simile? An oxymoron?

Alexander gave me literature lessons a long, long time ago, but I do not remember any of the literary devices. What I do know for sure is that this is all uniform chaos.

"Get in lines. Get in bloody fucking lines! Ten by ten right fucking now!"

Soldiers and sailors scatter around, grabbing gear and trying to find a place to stand. Throughout the chaos, there are random flashes, although I don't know where from.

Lee and Whipple are struggling to order them around. It doesn't help that a light downpour has begun to fall from the sky like God himself is crying at the disordered scene. Meanwhile, Alexander and I sneak away for a moment. I saw Burr and John storming to the house on the harbor, so I intend to follow them.

It was only by a miracle that John and I made it back to Oyster Harbor. Neither of us knew how to operate the ship, and we ended up making it go faster. By the time we figured it out, we were very far away from the harbor and slowed down to a lazy speed. We found another radio room on the ship and tried to radio anybody up. It was only just before sunrise that someone responded: an exhausted and furious Burr. We told him the situation, and well...

John and I made it back to the harbor, and chaos had already begun. Everyone knew at that point that the Brazilians are coming to attack. They knew that they could die.

Alexander, who had been worried to the point of aggravation, found me and almost took his anger out at John. He thought John kidnapped me, noting the injury on my forehead. I had to briefly explain what happened... then Alexander nearly took his extra rage out on John for not saving me sooner.

And he felt this anger all behind John's back. John had no idea.

I had to slap some sense into him... and here we are.

"I'm going to kill that fucker," Alexander growls, picking up his pace. I struggle to keep up.

"No, you're not."

"What the hell is even wrong with you, going off on your own at night?!" Alexander shouts.

I am taken back, brushing my slightly-wet hair behind my ear — this fucking rain. "It's a good thing I did," I argue back. "If I didn't, we wouldn't know of the incoming attack."

"You were nearly killed by that bitch!"

"But I wasn't, and that's what matters."

"I'm still going to kill-"

I grab Alexander by the collar, drawing him closer, a nasty scowl on my face. "I said no. You said you'd let me choose when he dies, and I'm saying no. You hear me?"

Alexander glares at me viciously, seemingly furious that I'm defending John. He takes my wrist and yanks it off of himself.

"Don't fuck this up for us, (Y/N)."

I stare him down for a moment more, then look away, striding to the house. Alexander follows behind.

When we enter, I hear frantic voices coming from the meeting room. I saunter to the closed door, turning the knob slowly and letting it swing open.

Within is Burr, John, and Hercules. On the conference table, which they stand around, is a radio. Their eyes dart towards us when we walk in.

"What are you two doing here?" Burr asks. "You should be with the other soldiers."