(Alexander's POV)
Sometimes silence is a good thing. A peaceful thing. Something you want to keep, protect for as long as you can. Even though nothing is there or happening, you seem to slowly smile slightly, at something small just in your reach.
Philip was my silence. My silence that night. His chest gently rose and fell, almost in sync with the large grandfather clock balancing on the wall in the hallway, just out of the tall, oak door. His small curls fell lightly in front of his face covering some of the small freckles dotted across his rosy cheeks- even his eyelids. And yet still, his smile- only faint- but still beaming a blinding light through the darkness that frosted is room in a smooth blanket of something people called 'home'. And 'home' pretty much sums up every emotion I had felt in that moment.
"I may not live to see our glory…"
"Alexander…" A voice of sweet honey swam by my ears in a slow serious tone. My dear Eliza. For a moment, I remember just starring at her for a long moment taking in all her glory. She had changed from her usual blue dress, into her night wear, with her newly brushed black, hair swept back into a loose plait on the right side of her face. The room and hallway was dim however, but the small light of the few candles reflected much more than the colour of her dark-brown eyes… Worry. Sadness. Concern. Sympathy.
Tears…
"There's a letter for you from South Carolina…"
"But I will gladly join the fight…"
Without giving her a second glance, or the letter she squeezed too hard in her hands, I turned back towards my sleeping boy. My stunning, sleeping, boy.
"It's from John Laurens, I'll read it later." I replied calmly.
Every time I received a letter from John, I was over excited, the same as in that moment. In my mind, I was realising this would be the last letter he sends for a while for he would be home soon. And let the celebrations begin! We would get wasted at the bar, have so many more drunk nights out with Herc, send letters to Lafayette in France. We would talk for hours on end about life- its ups, downs, the problems we faced. And most of all the adventures we had when he was fighting in South Carolina! Oh how my heart raced at thought of looking into his true, real eyes. Keeping my love from him a secret hurt but… it was for the best… I never liked talking full of myself but, when two people have a connection beyond any other, you know what the other is thinking and feeling in that moment. He loved me. I loved him. So with looks, we told. With words, we mute. Both of us longing for something more than those occasional glances we sweetly shared- but law was a forceful barrier- one of the only things that could control me like a puppet...
"No…" She paused, "It's… not…"
A sudden drop plummeted the slurring liquid sloshing in my stomach, with an instinct and anticipation. An almost knowing instinct, all seeing eye trying to tell my brain to barricade anyone and anything from something I may or may not already know.
Subconsciously I must have stood up from my keeling position beside Philips bed. Slowly, hesitantly, I stepped forward, nearing Eliza's heavy eyes. I tucked my arms behind my back trying to control the subtle shakes due to the rapid beat of my heart I was fearful she may hear.
"And when our children tell our story…"
Almost soundlessly, I took a deep breath from the cool room around me to stop my throat shaking in dread…
What was it I already knew?
"Will you read it?"
As if my heart couldn't beat any faster… It did… Increasing the sudden nerves directing my upper limbs. She too, took a deep, depressing breath and lowered her head slightly replacing her eye contact with the secretive letter that weighed down heavily in her hands. For a slight moment, she opened her mouth and with a tentative twitch, brought the letter up half way her body to then move it back to its original position. Her eyes slowly dragged away from the paper in her hands rested it upon Philips calm body, then linking them up with my own.
"I…" She started, "I think we should take this outside…"
I gulped long and hard slowly taking gradual steps towards out of the door- soundlessly closing it behind me… Each step felt as if it broke a part of my legs every time…
I only followed her sad shadow down the hall, past the deafening grandfather clock and out onto the balcony.
As soon as the doors opened, I felt a strong chill electrify my spine and freeze my eyelids closed for a second-though- that second felt like years pass by along with the breeze slowly humming by my ears. I didn't need my vision to see to cold mist being blown out of my mouth- it had already frozen my lungs. Causing the next breath to be a bit more jagged, something she had picked up on. I opened my eyes and turned to look at her anxious face crowded with many more uncertainties. Wait.
Had she already read it?
"So…?" I almost whispered, now closing off the eye contact. Her eyes closed too with a breath and she gently lifted the letter to where her eyes could see. Her mouth opened slightly to let the words flow out off the page below…
"They'll tell the story of…"
No.
"To…night…"
"O… On Tuesday, the twenty-seventh, Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens was…" She paused. This type of silence was not good…
No…
Nononononononono! The word was too big. Too life-shattering to name. A word. The word. I dread. I panic. My heart speeds. I shake violently. It couldn't be that word. It WASN'T that word! 'On Tuesday, the twenty-seventh, Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens was' promoted! Sent home early! Anything but that word…
He wasn't… Couldn't have been…
"…k… killed…"
It was.
"Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens was killed in a gunfight against British troops in South Carolina… These troops had not yet received word from Yorktown that the war was over… He's buried here until his family can send for his remains… As you may know, Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens was engaged in recruiting three thousand men for the first all-black military regiment- this will be forever remembered… We hope you will be able to take this heart-breaking news and remember how brave, strong and smart Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens was- as a soldier and, to some of you, a beloved friend. Without the courage of this and great achievements of this young-man I am afraid we may not have won the war. His sacrifice saved many people, and will be forever remembered. We are sorry to bring you this devastating news and hope you do well moving past this heart-breaking tragedy.
Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens, 1754-1782…"
John…
My head spun. With what? I couldn't tell. Everything was closing in. The trees. The house. Even the balcony seemed to cave in on its self- leaving me falling into an abyss of stars that swirled around into a face I can now never forget…
John…
Each star had a light- a memory! Each memory blinding me to remember. I wanted to forget. I wanted to cave in. No longer feel anything. But was that ever going to happen?
…"I'm John Laurens! I'm the place to be! Two pints o' Sam Adams, but I'm workin' on three, uh
Those redcoats don't want it with me
'Cause I will pop chick-a pop these cops till I'm free!"
"Alright, alright! That's what I'm talkin' about! Now everyone give it up for the maid of honour, Angelica Schuyler!"
"But we'll never be truly free! Until those in bondage have the same rights as you and me! You and I! Do or die! Wait till I sally in, on a stallion with the first black battalion! Have another shot!"
"I may not live to see our glory! But I've seen wonders great and small! 'Cause if the tomcat can get married! There's hope for our ass, after all!"
"We'll never be free until we end slavery!"
"Raise a glass to freedom! Something they can never take away! No matter what they tell you…
Raise a glass to the four of us! Tomorrow there'll be more of us… Telling the story of tonight!"
"Alexander… You're the closest friend I got…"
Then why did you leave me?
"Alexander? Are you alright?" Eliza asked looking at me sweating in an anxious river. My eyes looked up to her with warm, salty pearls rolling down my face.
"I…" I croaked with a break in my voice, "I… I need some time…"
She sighed and headed off the balcony looking back at me seeing if she could do anything to help.
All I wanted was my best friend back. Is that too much to ask?
"Tomorrow there'll be more of us…"
Some would call me crazy. Delusional. Just a man in no state to truly be sure on anything. But I know what I saw. He was there. A cold hand genially placed its way onto my shoulder and turned me around slightly to look into his deep, memorising eyes. Our foreheads met and he whispered so quietly I strained to hear him…
"I'll see you on the other side…"
He then looked down on me and gave a weak smile, planting a small sweet kiss on my lips. I leant into the kiss and slowly collapsed on my knees in a furious sob.
My back arched while my chest tightened, pain spilling out in heavy sweat and tears. My hands trying to squeeze his chest, instantly paralyzed in that position. Screams raced out of my mouth to hit him with an impact as I felt the vibrations enter my skull. I couldn't feel myself breathing, only the sudden jolts that pounded my rib cage. My nut brown hair fell around my face hiding me from the ominous world around me. Death doesn't discriminate… It just takes… And it takes and it takes… But why did it have to take him? For by taking him, it took my heart with it…
Who ever invented the word 'heart-break' didn't know what they were talking about. A heart doesn't 'break'- it shatters. A heart doesn't simply 'split in half'- it splinters. Splinters into more than a million, jagged pieces of an irregular aching agony that you must pick up yourself because you know, no one else will do it for you! A heart doesn't 'break' on impact- it happens before the final plummet- in the instinct of anticipation swirling a whirlpool in your belly. An almost knowing, all seeing eye trying to tell your brain to barricade anyone and anything from obliterating any remaining pieces of life you want to keep alive! And despite all the happy endings people promise you … A heart can never heal…
His embrace started to fade away around me. Leaving back into the cold corner of the wooden balcony.
He may not have lived to see his only child grow up. He may not have lived to see the glory he'd lost his life for. He may not have lived… But he would still be my best friend…
John…
Authors Note: This story is a one off and I hope I hit you all in the feels. This One-Shot is just to describe what Alex felt during 'Laurens Interlude' (with my own extra bits :D). Personally I almost cried while writing this soooo I REALLY hope you LOVED IT! All I can ask is you spare a few minutes of your time to review this!
I am thinking I might do another One-Shot to link to this… What do you think?
Well see ya! :D
-L.E-Rae _x_