History Has Its Eyes On You ~ A Hamilton Fanfiction (Book 1, Act 1)

Lashes Of The Redcoat

!!Warning!!

(Y/N POV)

"Uhhhhhh..."

I lumbered around the bed, turning in discomfort. Two days had passed since the battle, and two days since I'd stood on my own feet. I was served a greater amount of food than usual, which I found hard to get used to again. Months of starvation had gotten me used to that cruel lifestyle.

Funnily enough, Alexander visited more frequently than John. Must've taken him aback that I disguised as one of his worst enemies. Nevertheless, not having to bare with him screaming his lungs out about why my opinions were always wrong anymore was a nice change.

Meanwhile, Washington visited twice a day, and it was clear that he was confused. I was able to fool George Washington, our soon-to-be president. On the one hand, I was proud. Alas on the other, I felt like a moron for making Washington feel shame.

But I felt nothing for Wilson.

He'd still be at a table trying to process all of this.

As for the others, I had no clue.

They'd heard of it, of course, they'd just never came to visit.

Maybe I should find it out myself.

I tossed my quilt to one side, allowing my legs to slide out of the bed. The touch of the grass was enough to shatter me, sending a shiver down my spine. Though, I pushed on, heaving a pair of boots on. I wore a single hunting shirt and my normal breeches from before, as I was 'too feeble to change'.

How they would never have taken me that lightly if I were still Charlie Miller.

Washington had generously left his jacket to me, so I decided to wear it temporarily. I quickly brought myself up, standing alone away from the bed. I held my arms into the air, and just as I thought I was safe to move and could lower them, I stumbled over.

I sat irritably with my arms and legs crossed for approximately 5 minutes. Yet I soon figured that if I stayed any longer, I'd gather a rather large green stain on my pants, which would be awful to explain. "Alright, here we go again." I took my time getting up, not wanting to startle the nurses or other hospitalized soldiers.

And with that bit of faith, I was up.

I poked my head around the curtain, checking to see if I was clear to leave. With no nurse in sight, I wobbled myself out of the tent.

Though the instant I did, I regretted everything.

I was incompatible to the stares, the eerie silence that I'd never heard of before. It was a whole new atmosphere blossoming right before me. My eyes were swollen, begging to cry for me, but I wouldn't let them. I was a soldier, and I had to act like one.

The first immediate person I recognised was Wilson, gazing with sable bags under his eyes. He showed no remorse, yet no will to joke; he just soundlessly carried on with his day.

I felt the need to rush back inside, to hide beneath my duvet and remind myself of all I pain I'd endured. But now I couldn't. I'd made my final decision, and I was to stick with it.

I wandered the camp, ignoring the silence. Even Mr and Mrs Peale, who were arm-in-arm, didn't murmur a thing. If anything, Mr Peale seemed ashamed of himself.

I knew that, like always, Burr would be sat reading. Or so I'd always thought of it. Turning my head, I was surprised to see him gazing alike everybody else was. However, the corner of his mouth was raised in a smile for a mere second. I smiled back, but it just felt... wrong. Like I could no longer be sincere about it.

And finally, my walls came crashing down as I confronted Lafayette and Hercules. They stood up attentively from their bench, and I staggered towards them. But there was no way that I could hold it in any longer. I crumbled to my knees, one hand wrapped around my chest with the other over my teary eyes.

Lafayette rushed over, carefully heaving my body back up and wrapping his arms supportively around me. "It's alright, mon ami." he whispered, shunning away anyone who stared. "You've done good." I couldn't help but sob, though I tried to detain myself from doing so. Hercules tapped his hand upon my arm sympathetically.

"Here we are, you bastard." I drew myself away from Lafayette, observing as Wilson dragged a Redcoat across the camp. His chest was bare, and his face pale. Two other soldiers set up a wooden post in the ground, and Wilson immediately shoved the Redcoat against it forcefully.

The three men tied his hands and feet securely around the post, assuring he couldn't escape. The Redcoat panted, his face pressed roughly against the wood as the sun blazed down upon his back.

Wilson tugged at his chin, forcing him to squint in my direction. "You see that woman over there?" Wilson asked him. "That's the woman you almost shot dead." We took an intense glance at each other, but I felt somewhat sorry for him. That man was only serving his country, as we all were.

"You still feel nothing?" Wilson questioned furiously. The sheer fact that he treated me with such respect now was so weird.
"You shall forever curse my name, but you shall never curse my country." he protested passionately.
"Then it's settled." Wilson held his hand out, only for one of the men to pass over a whip.

"Wait-!" Lafayette restrained me from racing over to them. John, alerted by the event, came out from inside of a tent to watch. He cautiously trotted over, standing by my side.

Standing back, Wilson lashed the whip at the Redcoat's back, staining it with an instant marking of fresh blood. He shouted in pain, but kept standing.

Another lash. His hands cramped up in agony, trembling to escape. "Lafayette, he's hurt!" I implored, but my friend had no reply; all eyes were on the whipping.

Lash, after lash, after lash. "S- Stop it!" I exclaimed, but my voice was too frail to hear anything. Wilson kept it up, successfully striking every time. His back was practically a bloodbath by now, running freely down his breeches.

"Stop!!" I declared once more. Some recognised my plea, whilst others ignored. I couldn't watch this man suffer anymore, so I propelled Lafayette away from me. "WILSON, STOP IT!!" My voice broke halfway through, for I hadn't screamed like that for a long while.

And, for sure, Wilson stopped.

Attracted to the commotion also, Alexander carelessly exited from Washington's tent. He scanned the scenario, freezing as he witnessed the Redcoat. He couldn't care of the blood along his back, nor the pole to which he was tied to- what mattered was the Redcoat's face. Similarly, he also stared back at Alexander in awe.

"Is..."

"Is that...?"

~~~~~~~~~~

Me with headphones in: *Listening to The Room Where It Happens*
Kids in background: --ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAAAAAAAS IS YOOOOOOOOOU

Yes this really happened.

And I had to deal with it for 3 hours straight.

Also horray I got this out on the 11th of July! (215 years since the Burr-Hamilton duel)