My Darling Flower [Alexander Hamilton x Female Reader] (Under Revision)

16. Conflict

A/N: 10 minutes to spare! I hope you all have room for one last present. Merry Christmas!

Also, I apologize for any OOC Washington. I haven't written him in so long and yeah. Also, this chapter is a tiny bit shorter than the rest, but... well, that's mostly because I forgot where I was going with this for a second.

》》》》》》

George walked right past Y/N and Lafayette, barely sparing them a glance.

"Captain Lee," he greets solemnly.

"Your Excellency..." Lee whispers.

"What in God's name happened?" George asks.

"We had arrived at Daviser's Ferry and began burning the flour, Sir, when the British spotted and began firing upon us. We hastily retreated, Hamilton in tow with the last of the men."

Lee glances towards Y/N, whose fingers were intertwined with her betrothed.

"We got on the boat, Hamilton's horse and another man beside him were shot dead, Your Excellency. He, in the spur of the moment, decided that the best course of action was to dive into the river, Sir."

Y/N's eyes widen.

"He never resurfaced. I'm sorry, Your Excellency. Colonel Hamilton..." he trails off.

Y/N's grip loosens and Lafayette pulls her close, holding her.

Tears fill her eyes and she buries her face in his neck.

The Frenchman whispers soft comforts in his native language as Washington processes the news.

Hamilton couldn't be dead.

To him, the boy always seemed so... what's the word for it?

Untouchable?

Yes, untouchable. Untouchable by death.

He had survived his being born out of wedlock, his father leaving, the illness that purged both he and his mother (and which ultimately decided his fate as an orphan) and the fatal hurricane that struck his home when he was a mere fifteen years old.

Yet, his fate was to die in this war?

His fate was to have drowned and made his way to the bottom of the Schuylkill River or have been shot and stained the river a crimson red?

No.

That couldn't be.

What kind of cruel logic was that?

What kind of trick was Providence playing?

Why would Providence use such a horrid joke?

He had been faithful. He had believed.

Perhaps God simply didn't wish to be bothered anymore for this war.

Perhaps He simply decided to get rid of men on either side. Little by little. Bit by bit.

'Perhaps...' George mused, 'our poor Colonel Hamilton isn't dead.'

The older Virginian finally snaps out of it and turns to an aide, "Ready a small detachment and ride out to the Schuylkill. You are to search for any sign that Colonel Hamilton could be alive. If none are found... you search for his body."

The aide nods solemnly, saluting before running out.

"Captain Lee, I want a fully detailed report on what exactly... went wrong by tomorrow morning. I need to know how many pounds of flour were burned, how many stolen, how many British troops, how they knew, everything."