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In Hamilton’s defense, the battle was almost over. The action had slowed significantly, only a handful of redcoats were still fighting, all the others already retreated or laying face down on the bloody battlefield.
Lafayette had been giving orders to his troops to go ahead with one final push to completely eliminate the British when Hamilton jogged over to him.
“Laf!” he called, coming to a stop a few feet away, panting.
“The general has been looking all over for you. You’re the only one of us he hasn’t heard from.”
Hamilton didn’t need to specify who ‘us’ was - Lafayette knew Washington worried only so for himself, Alexander, John Laurens, and a few other select members of their military family.
“Where is he? I do not believe I’ve heard of his action either,” Lafayette said, brows furrowing.
“In the infirmary checking on Meade,” Hamilton said with a shrug.
Lafayette frowned. “What is wrong with Meade?”
Hamilton shrugged once again before turning away from Lafayette and staring off into the distance.
“What has got your pants in a… what do the Americans say? A spin?”
“A twist, Laf. And it’s nothing.” Hamilton does well at immediately contradicting his statement by shoving his hands in his pockets and kicking at the ground.
Lafayette raised an eyebrow at the sulking man.
“Right. And this ‘nothing’ you speak of has no relation to mon generals’ refusal to give you a command?”
“It’s not fair, Laf!” Hamilton cried, throwing his hands up in exasperation.
“I have done nothing but prove myself over and over again, and yet nothing I do seems to be good enough for him,” he huffed, crossing his arms.
“I have no need for his personal afflictions, which, truthfully-“ Hamilton cut himself off by turning around. His eyes grew wide and his hand grabbed immediately for his sword.
Lafayette wasted no time in ducking and reaching for his own weapon. He heard the whoosh of a blade narrowly missing his head as he whipped around.
A young redcoat stood in front of him, sword raised once again to strike. Lafayette parried, pushing against the soldier and making him stumble. But to his credit, the boy didn’t let that stop him. Lafayette continued fighting, teeth grit in annoyance.
He can hear what must be Alexander fighting another soldier behind him, grunts and metal clashing filling the air.
After a few moments Lafayette disarmed the redcoat and sunk his blade into the boy’s neck. The boy collapsed, skin graying and eyes glazing immediately.
Lafayette turned just in time to see Hamilton sink his blade into a soldier's chest and knock him to the ground, eyes fierce and proud, but not in time to stop a third soldier from creeping up behind him and slamming the butt of his musket into his head.
“Alex!” Lafayette cried, rushing forward.
Alexander’s face went slack, eyes glazed, and the soldier hit him once more. Alexander crumpled, barely avoiding falling onto his own sword.
The redcoat lifted the weapon to bring it down onto Hamilton's head once more, but Lafayette was faster, knocking the man down and plunging his sword through his stomach.
He shoved the man aside and knelt down next to Hamilton.
“No, no, no,” he cried, hands trembling as he reached out to flip Hamilton onto his back. He prayed to any angel in Heaven that may be listening to not look at his friend’s face and be met with blank, unseeing eyes.
Hamilton’s eyes were closed, his face slack and pale. A small rivet of blood was trickling down the side of his face. Lafayette’s stomach churned at how vulnerable the young man looked.
“Alexandre,” Lafayette whispered, placing his fingers on Hamilton’s neck to feel for a pulse.
He let out a breath of relief at the rapid thready beat.
“Alexander, come on. Open your eyes for me, mon ami. Laurens will have my head if he never sees your magnifique blue eyes again,” Lafayette murmured, reaching out to wipe some blood out of Hamilton’s eyes.
Hamilton groaned, eyelids fluttering.
“Yes, come on Alexandre, you’re alright,” Lafayette cooed.
Hamilton slowly peeled his eyes open with another groan.
“Laf?” he questioned, eyes squinted.
“Yes. Yes, you’re alright mon petit lion.” He leaned closer to Hamilton and grit his teeth at the sight of Alexander’s blown pupils.
“What happ’nd?” Alexander slurred, attempting to sit up.
“No, no, stay down. You hurt your head,” Lafayette explained, gently pushing Alexander back down.
“Me?” Hamilton asked, eyebrows drawing together, his expression one of pure confusion.
Lafayette worried at his lip, concern for his brother in arms washing over him.
“Yes, but it - it’s alright. You’ll be okay.” He looked up at the field, searching for anyone - any living creature who could possibly be of help in this situation. And, of course, there was no one.
He looked back down at Alexander whose eyes had slipped closed once more.
“Hey, no, no Alex. Keep your eyes open,” Lafayette said, reaching out to gently tap on Alexander’s cheek. His eyes flickered open again, taking a moment to find and focus on Lafayette’s face.
Lafayette pursed his lips for a moment before taking a deep breath and steeling himself.
“Alright. We need to get you back to camp, Alex. Can you sit up?” he asked.
Instead of answering, Hamilton pushed himself into a sitting position immediately.
“Alex!” Lafayette exclaimed, grabbing his shoulders to hold him up as all the blood drained from his face and his eyes began to roll back into his head.
He reached out and slapped Alexander’s cheek gently.
“Stay awake, Hamilton,” he murmured. It took a moment for Hamilton to force his eyes open, but he managed.
“S’rry,” he slurred, head lolling back.
Lafayette shook his head.
“It is fine. But don’t do that again, alright?” he said, only wanting to keep Hamilton talking.
“R’ght.”
“Alright, we need to get back to camp, Alex. Now it’s either I carry you--” Lafayette was cut off by Alexander letting out a groan of protest.
“Or,” he continued, “I help you walk. I presume that’s what you want?”
“Mhm,” Hamilton hummed. He reached both of his arms up to Lafayette.
“H’lp me up,” he said, words still concerningly slurred.
Lafayette pursed his lips but grabbed Alexander by the elbows and slowly helped him up. What little colour had returned to his face left it once again, but he kept his eyes open this time.
“Are you alright?” Lafayette questioned, still holding onto Alexander’s arms.
Hamilton hummed in a way Lafayette could only hope was affirmative.
“Okay, one foot in front of the other, Alex,” Lafayette soothed, shifting their positions so that his arm was looped around Alexander’s waist and Alex’s arm was slung around Lafayette’s shoulders.
They began the slow process of walking, Hamilton swaying alarmingly, his gaze fixed on the ground, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
It was silent for a few minutes before Lafayette spoke up.
“Do you know where we are, Alexandre?” he questioned, turning in an attempt to observe Alexander’s face.
Hamilton lifted his head a bit, one eye squinted against the trickle of blood flowing over it.
“Aren’t you ‘posed to ask those qu’stions before you start moving y’r patient?” he slurred, stumbling against Lafayette’s side from the effort of speaking.
“Aren’t you supposed to be compliant to friends trying to help you through a major head injury?” Lafayette shot back, though he couldn’t push down the flutter of relief that Alexander was still able to be an asshole.
“‘S not major,” Hamilton grumbled, gaze returning to the ground. “Battlefield. It was over.” His head shot up suddenly, eyes wide and frightened.
“Where is Laurens? Is he here?” he demanded, stopping in his tracks and almost falling before Lafayette steadied him.
“He is alright,” Lafayette assured the man, “He is at camp. And he is waiting for you, so we must keep moving.” His voice softened then as he gently urged Hamilton forward again.
“Oh. That’s good,” Hamilton hummed, finally continuing on again.
It was quiet for another few moments before Hamilton’s raspy and raw voice broke the silence.
“Am I dying, Laf?” he questioned. Lafayette tensed, looking down at the shorter man. Hamilton was looking up at him through damp lashes, one eye still squinted. Lafayette reached out to wipe the blood out of his eyes.
“No, you are not dying, Hammie,” he assured, voice firm.
“You’re sure? What has happn’d, my friend?” Hamilton pressed, leaning more heavily on Lafayette.
“We were fighting a battle with Clinton’s troops. You’ve hurt your head. But you are okay, Alexander. I swear it.”
“We were fighting a battle? Where is my Laurens?” his expression softened, “My dearest Laurens,” he murmured.
Lafayette’s stomach clenched as Hamilton repeated the simple questions. They couldn’t be far from camp now - twenty minutes max - and yet it still felt like too long.
“Laurens is at camp. He is okay,” Lafayette repeated, barely managing to keep his voice steady.
“And what of my General?” Hamilton questioned.
“I… I am sure he is with Laurens. He is okay.”
Hamilton hummed.
“I don’t hate ‘im,” he rasped. Lafayette frowned, brows furrowing.
“What do you mean Alexandre?” he questioned. When the man didn’t respond, he reached a hand up to tap gently on his cheek.
Hamilton’s head shot up, eyes half-lidded.
“I don’t hate him,” he repeated, “Washingt’n, I mean. You know, at f’rst I was scared… I didn’t want him to become to me what he is to you,” Hamilton spoke. Lafayette frowned, pursing his lips to stop himself from butting in - he may not like what Hamilton was saying, but at least he was saying anything at all.
“He w’nts to be my… my dad or somethin’. I didn’t want it to happen. But… I think it might be ‘appening,” Hamilton slurred.
“And why is this such a bad thing, Hamilton?” Lafayette prompted, desperate to keep the young man talking.
“I’m scared. The… the more people I love, the more people I ‘ave to lose,” he explained. “And it’s scary.”
Lafayette’s heart clenched and he blinked past the burning in his eyes.
“I know, little lion. I know. But… I think it is worth it,” Lafayette murmured.
Hamilton looked up at him.
“You do?”
Lafayette nodded with a gentle smile.
“My life is full with you all. I believe even a short time being so full is worth the pain of any possible loss,” he said.
Hamilton was silent for long enough for Lafayette to grow concerned before he spoke again.
“I like that. I think I might agree,” he hummed.
“You might?”
“I might.”
Lafayette let out a small huff of laughter at that, and Hamilton grinned cheekily up at him.
“I’m very funny,” he crooned.
“If it makes you feel any better,” Lafayette replied smoothly.
Hamilton giggled, and Lafayette’s concern returned tenfold. Hamilton didn’t giggle. Well, perhaps around Laurens after a few too many Sam Adams, but other than that, the man most definitely didn’t giggle.
Lafayette was about to order Hamilton to allow him to carry him the rest of the way to camp when a voice broke through the thick tension surrounding them.
“General Lafayette!”
It was a young soldier, not possibly older than eighteen, riding up to them on horseback.
“Is that Colonel Hamilton? What has happened?” the boy asked, reigning his horse to a stop and sliding off its back.
Lafayette stood straighter, a newfound vigor running through him.
“He has a concussion. How far are we from camp?” Lafayette demanded, shifting to hike Hamilton up his side a bit.
Hamilton’s eyes were still open, squinting at the man through the blood coating his face, almost all of his weight being supported by the Marquis.
“About five minutes on horseback. Do you want her?” the soldier offered, motioning to the white beauty still standing at his side.
Lafayette breathed out a hefty sigh of relief.
“Yes. Thank you so much, soldat. Tell me your name - I will make sure the General hears of your selflessness.”
The boys cheeks grew pink and he stepped back from the horse to allow Lafayette to begin manhandling Hamilton onto the beast.
“Corporal James Hudgins,” the boy said. “I - thank you,” he finished lamely, eyes glued to the ground.
“No, thank you, Corporal. I will leave your horse in the stables,” Lafayette said as he climbed upon the beast, seating himself behind Hamilton, who was still watching the exchange with an almost bored expression.
He grabbed the reigns and began the horse forward.
“We are almost there, Alexander, just a bit longer,” Lafayette whispered in Hamilton’s ear.
Hamilton settled himself into Lafayette’s chest with a small hum.
Lafayette’s hands clenched the reigns tighter at the realization that he could no longer keep an eye on Hamilton to make sure he was awake.
“Speak to me Alexander, I beg,” he pleaded.
“About what, my friend?” Hamilton slurred, his voice so quiet it was almost lost to the wind.
“Anything - speak about your Laurens,” he suggested.
Any other time, Lafayette would never give Hamilton the window to speak about Laurens - he could go on and on for hours about the man - but he was desperate at this point.
He only could imagine the way Alexander’s eyes must have brightened at the mention of his dearest.
“My dearest Laurens,” he mused. “I would love him a thousand times over again, even if I was told of a tragic ending we could not escape - an ending worthy of an ancient Greek tragedy,” he said. He tilted his head back to look at Lafayette.
“I have so much to lose, and yet I feel so full. And I like it,” he said decidedly.
Lafayette smiled down at the man.
“That is good, Alexandre. That is good.”
Hamilton opened his mouth to continue, but he was interrupted by a loud cry from ahead of them.
“Halt! Dismount your horse and state your name and purpose!”
“General Lafayette. I have Colonel Hamilton with me, he is in need of immediate medical assistance. The code word is Mount Vernon - let us through!” Lafayette ignored the first order and stalled his horse, straightening his posture.
The soldiers standing guard at the entrance moved to the side to allow them through, eyes glued to Hamilton, who was barely avoiding falling off the horse at that point.
Lafayette urged the horse forward, stopping a few feet away from the makeshift medical tent.
“We have made it, Alexander,” Lafayette breathed.
“Wonderful,” Hamilton slurred, before promptly going limp and listing to the side. Lafayette grabbed him and pulled him close to his chest.
“Someone come help Colonel Hamilton!” Lafayette boomed, looking around at a few soldiers who had gathered around them.
Two stepped forward and reached up, helping Hamilton down and carrying him into the infirmary.
Lafayette took a deep breath before smoothly dismounting the horse. He looked around at the one remaining soldier still standing by him and motioned to the horse.
“Would you?” Lafayette asked. The soldier hurriedly grabbed the reigns and began walking the horse towards the stable.
Lafayette took another deep breath and reached up to massage at his temples. Jesus.
“Laf!”
Lafayette turned towards the desperate panicked voice, breath hitching as he saw Laurens sprinting towards him, face contorted in distress, hair sweaty and tangled.
Lafayette stepped forward and cupped Laurens face in his hands.
“Mon dieu,” he whispered.
Laurens reached up to grab Lafayette’s wrists.
“Where is he? Where is he!?” Laurens voice was desperate and horrified, tears welling up in his eyes.
Lafayette pulled Laurens into a tight hug. Laurens struggled against him for a moment, but quickly stopped and hugged him back, burying his face in Lafayette’s chest. Lafayette rested his chin on Laurens’ trembling shoulder and breathed in his smoky scent.
“Please… please tell me he isn’t dead,” Laurens pleaded, voice muffled in Lafayette’s coat.
“He is not dead, my Laurens. He will be okay. I swear it,” Lafayette whispered, squeezing Laurens tighter.
Laurens body seemed to sag with relief.
“Jesus.”
“I know.”
Lafayette held Laurens tight for a few moments before another familiar voice broke the tense silence.
“Gilbert! Thank goodness.” Lafayette pulled away from Laurens to turn to Washington, whose face was one of pure relief.
“Mon general,” Lafayette breathed. He stepped forward and pulled the general into a quick embrace, the man relaxing at his touch almost immediately.
He pulled back and placed both hands on Lafayette’s shoulders.
“I am very glad you are okay, Gilbert. I… I was very worried,” Washington said with a small and very clearly forced smile. Lafayette attempted to smile back, though he doubted he was very successful.
The general pulled back once more.
“And what of Hamilton?” he asked, looking around.
He heard what sounded like a strangled choking sob from behind him and turned to see Laurens with his head buried in his hands, shoulders trembling.
“No,” Washington breathed, “No - do not tell me - he is not…” His fists clenched.
“He is not,” Lafayette assured, giving Washington a placating look before returning to Laurens side and pulling him into his chest. “He is in the infirmary. And he will be okay.” His voice was firm and left no room for argument.
Washington was silent for a moment before he nodded.
“Of course,” he murmured, taking a deep breath. “Gilbert, John, you two need to get cleaned up.” Lafayette opened his mouth as if to argue, but Washington held up a hand.
“I will not hear it. The battle was gruesome, and you are both filthy and covered in blood. Take a few minutes to clean up, and then you can return to our Hamilton’s side,” he said, voice firm.
Lafayette nodded after a moment and pulled away from Laurens, pointedly avoiding looking at his face, not wanting to see the desperate misery most definitely painted upon it. He grabbed Laurens wrist and tugged him toward his tent.
“Come, Laurens.”
“But-”
“He will be there when we return. I swear it.”
Laurens let out a shaky breath, but allowed Lafayette to pull him along. Lafayette bit his lip and prayed that Hamilton would still be there when they returned.
--
When Hamilton awoke, the first thing he became aware of was pain. Pure, agonizing, all encompassing pain.
With each breath he took, a thud echoed in his head, each heartbeat thrumming loudly.
He groaned, reaching a hand up to grasp his pounding head, but it was intercepted by a firm cold hand.
“No, Colonel Hamilton. Do not touch your head.”
Hamilton groaned again, not caring how pathetic he must sound.
“Can you open your eyes?”
Hamilton had to take a deep breath to steel himself before he slowly peeled his eyes open. Almost immediately he slammed them shut again, letting out a cry of pain at the blinding light that assaulted his senses.
He heard the voice that had been speaking to him murmur something in a different direction before he spoke to him again.
“I’m sorry, Hamilton. The lantern has been put out, please try and open your eyes for me again,” the voice soothed.
Hamilton let out a noise that teetered dangerously close to a whine, but the man didn’t comment on it.
“Please try, Colonel. This is important.”
Hamilton grit his teeth and forced his eyes open, barely managing to avoid closing them at the way the room spun.
“Yes, good.” A stern looking man leaned over him, observing Hamilton’s eyes and gently prodding at his head.
“Wh’ ‘appn’d?” Hamilton slurred, attempting to turn his head away from the prying fingers. A hand caught his chin and forced his head back to its original position.
The doctor ignored him, instead beginning an onslaught of questions.
“Can you tell me your name?” he asked.
“Alex.”
“Your full name, Colonel.”
“Alexander Hamilt’n,” he slurred. “Why am I here? Where is Laurens?” he demanded, though his voice was weak and trembling slightly.
Once again, the man ignored him.
“Do you know where you are?”
“Camp. I’m assuming the inf’rm’ry,” Hamilton snapped, patience growing thin.
The doctor pulled away and hummed. “I suppose that’s enough for now,” he murmured to himself.
“What’s enough? What’s going on?” Alexander demanded, attempting to sit up, which was not a good idea - the world around him spun, his head throbbed, and his stomach churned angrily.
The doctor stepped closer and gently put a hand on Hamilton’s shoulder, pushing him back down.
“You got a head injury in the battle. The Marquis de Lafayette helped you back to camp. You’ve been unconscious in here for about fifteen minutes - and I do not know where Laurens is,” he said, shooting Hamilton a look at the last part. Hamilton didn’t have the energy to backtrack and defend himself, instead closing his eyes and sighing.
“Your head has been bandaged up, but you’re going to need to stay in here for at least another night.” Hamilton groaned at the doctors words.
“I’m afraid you don’t have much of a say in this matter, Hamilton,” his voice suddenly grew serious, “You are very lucky to be alive right now. Don’t forget that,” he said, before turning and walking away, presumably to deal with another wounded soldier.
Hamilton let out a deep breath through his nose, attempting to grab onto any memory from the battle - he recalled arguing with the General, a sharp sting in his chest as he was sent away. He recalled the bite of fear as he saw the Redcoat sneaking up behind an unknowing Lafayette - unknowing because Hamilton had been talking to much, always too much - and he recalled the world going black as he barely dodged the blade of his own sword as he crumpled. But after that, nothing - nothing at all.
He wondered if it would ever come back to him. He didn’t know if he truly wanted it to.
“Can we see him?”
His head whipped to the side at the familiar voice coming from just outside the tent. Laurens.
“Yes, but be gentle. He is in a lot of pain - keep watch of his breathing and pulse.” He recognized the doctor from earlier’s reply, voice softer now than it had been with him. He frowned. Asshole.
The flap of the tent flung open, and Hamilton squeezed his eyes shut at the evening light. The light went away quickly, and he felt a presence at his side. A gentle calloused hand brushed his hair out of his face and caressed his cheek.
“Can you hear me, Alex?”
Hamilton’s heart soared.
“Laurens? My Laurens?” Hamilton slurred, peeling his eyes open slowly, a small smile gracing his face.
Laurens was next to him, cheeks shining in the dim lighting of the room, lips pressed into a thin line, but his shoulders seemed to sag with relief when Hamilton spoke.
“You scared us, Hamilton,” came the voice of his commander from a few feet behind Laurens. Alexander let his eyes slowly find the man, who was standing stiffly, arms crossed, but with a gentle look on his face Alexander knew he reserved for the three of them.
“S’rry. Didn’ mean to,” Hamilton murmured. And then - “I don’ hate you.”
The general’s eyebrows pulled together in confusion and Lafayette laughed aloud.
“Give it a minute, Alexander,” he chided, smiling at the bedridden man. Alex smiled sloppily at him before his gaze returned to the man at his side, who was still looking at him with those beautiful searching eyes.
Alexander carefully removed his hand from the blanket laid over him and held it out towards Laurens. Laurens didn’t waste a second in grabbing and squeezing it.
He could feel Washington’s gaze on them, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
“I was askin’ for you,” Hamilton whispered. Laurens smiled wetly.
“So I’ve heard,” he whispered back.
Hamilton let his eyes slip closed once more, heart full and mind calm.
“I love you, my Laurens,” he murmured.
“I love you, my Alexander,” Laurens whispered, leaning closer towards Hamilton.
The room relaxed as Hamilton’s body finally went limp, breathing evening out.
Lafayette turned to the general.
“Perhaps we should leave Laurens to care for our Hammie,” he suggested, walking to the tent flap. The general followed with a sigh.
“I invite you to accompany me to my quarters - I have a bottle of rum with our names on it.” he murmured the last part, shaking his head lightly.
Lafayette followed him out of the tent into the quickly fading dusk.
The two stood next to each other for a moment, Lafayette slowly gaining the courage to speak.
“Mon general - whatever they’ve said… you understand how close their bond is - and in moments of peril like these-” he was cut off by the general raising his hand meekly.
“I don’t believe I will ever understand their bond,” Lafayette knew he didn’t truly mean the bond - he meant the meaning behind the bond, “but I… have grown to care for John and Alex. And I… I don’t believe something so trivial as a bond in a hard time such as this should come between us,” he finished, eyeing Lafayette wearily.
Lafayette smiled, shoulders relaxing.
“Of course, mon general.” Then - “Thank you.”
The general smiled softly. “I do not believe there is any reason for you to be thanking me. I have done nothing but love my Military family.”
Lafayette nodded, allowing George to wrap an arm around his shoulders and tug him in the direction of his quarters.
“But of course, Sir.”