I'll Write My Way Out

A/N: Hey guys! This is my first Hamilton fic, and I'm pretty excited. (It also goes without saying that any constructive criticism would be awesome. Just keep it nice.) This little beauty will be full of lots of whump, angst, fluff, and general hurt/comfort along the way, so buckle up! I hope you enjoy it. :) (Trigger warnings for PTSD, anxiety, and drowning.)

"C'mon, Alex, we're gonna be late!"

Lafayette's voice drifted up the stairs; Alex could practically hear him bouncing in anticipation. He, John, Hercules, and Laf were going fishing with Herc's dad's old boat, and Alex had spent the past 15 minutes trying to find a life vest somewhere in his cluttered closet. There was no way on earth he was going without one, not after…no, he wasn't supposed to think about that right now.

"Alex!"

"I'm coming, just a minute!" Alex called back. He tossed aside a couple old winter jackets and dug further into the mess. It was here, Martha had told him there was one in here somewhere….

"Alex, mon ami, I swear to God, if you don't get down here right now," Laf yelled again, tension lacing his voice. He absolutely hated being late, just the notion of not arriving early made him shudder. Alex rolled his eyes and shoved more clothes out of the closet, panic now tightening in his chest. What if it really wasn't here?

"Alexander, you are a complete—whoa." Laf stopped mid-way into the room, eyes widening at the explosion of clothes and shoes piling the floor. "What happened here? It is, how you say, a sty of pigs."

Alex looked up and rolled his eyes again. "A pigsty, Laf, and yes. It is. But I've got to find this life vest before we go." He turned back to the floor and started rifling through the piles. Laf knelt next to him and sorted with him for a moment, before finally sitting back and sighing.

"It's not here, Alex."

"No, Martha said it was in this closet, it's got to be-"

"Alex. It's obviously not here. Let's go." Laf pulled Alex to his feet with a grunt.

"No, I've got to find it," The panic was tightening around his chest again, like a metal band. If he didn't wear a life vest on that boat, and he fell in, or it tipped over, then he'd just sink, he'd thrash, and scream, but in the end…he couldn't swim. The thoughts were swirling inside him like a whirlpool. He couldn't swim. He would drown, like he almost did before, years ago, when he struggled and held on for dear life. The metal band was getting tighter, and tighter-

"Alex?"

Alex snapped back to reality. Laf was watching him, worry etched in his eyes.

"You okay there, mon ami? You seem…" he trailed off.

"No, no, I'm fine," Alex said. Laf gave him a suspicious look. He didn't believe him.

"We can get a different vest at Herc's, you know." he said. Relief washed over Alex. That's right, how could he forget about that? The metal band around his chest loosened slightly.

"Okay, yeah."

15 minutes later they were both climbing into the boat along with Hercules and John, with Alex triple-checking the clips keeping his life jacket strapped on.

"Little nervous, bro?" Hercules asked, giving him a playful look.

"I don't like water all that much." Alex said. Hercules looked confused for a second, until Laf shot him a look and comprehension dawned over his face.

"Uh…should we get going, then?" John asked, breaking the tension. Alex nodded and Herc started up the motor.

"Alright. Let's go!"

Alex gripped the edges of his seat so hard his knuckles turned white. The little boat sped up, the front tipping towards the sky as it splashed over the waves. Water sprayed their faces and Laf shrieked, laughing with John as they cheered for Herc to go faster. Herc obliged, grinning, until he saw Alex, his eyes shut tight against the pounding fear in his throat. John noticed and knelt beside him.

"Alex?"

Alex could feel someone pulling his hands into theirs. He jerked away for a moment, but relaxed when he opened his eyes to see John's, studying him concernedly.

"You okay there?"

No. He wasn't okay in the slightest. But John seemed to sense what he was thinking, and took a slow, deep breath. Alex caught the cue and mimicked him for a moment, feeling the air enter and exit his lungs more freely than before. John sat back and smiled encouragingly.

"There we go. You want to get off?"

"No," Alex replied. It was true, he didn't want to miss out on this with his friends. It was just… "Can we go a little slower, though?"

"On it," Herc called from the wheel. Alex offered a small smile and they set off again, this time with the boat going at a calmer, more steady pace. Alex took the moment to take in the scenery around him, still counting his breathing silently. It was…beautiful, to say the least. Almost peaceful. The afternoon sun glinted off the water, making ribbons of crystal light dance off it hypnotically. A few other boats petered around, some throwing out near invisible lines attached to colorful bobbers, waiting for a fish to dart out and snatch one up. Faint laughter echoed from a cabin along the shoreline, a few young women lounging on the beach. And the water…

Even being a thing of death, it seemed so alive. Splashing and streaming alongside the boat, rippling waves marking where a duck had just landed, shimmering trout flicking their tails just beneath the depths of the dark, murky weeds. If Alex looked closely he could just make out the sandy bottom in the shallower parts. He imagined how that wet, muddy sand would feel beneath his toes, how his feet would sink into it and splurch as he pulled them out. The water looked so cool, so refreshing against the hot sun beating down onto his back. It was, for the first time in years, almost tempting.

All sounds of his friends' chatter faded away into faint echoes as he let himself glide into another place…one of his days in the Caribbean before the hurricane, when he ran along the shoreline in nothing but an old pair of wet shorts. He collected seashells, then. Alex smiled at the memory. He had brought the best, prettiest ones to his mother, who hid her tear-stained face to smile at him and hold him close.

Alex stared down at the water over the edge of the little boat. It was so sleek, and cool. He wanted to dip his toes in it like he had as a child. Without thinking he leaned over the edge. Maybe he could run his fingers through it, feel its droplets caress his skin for just a moment. He leaned farther. The life jacket was getting in the way, it was too bulky. Perhaps if he just slipped it off, just for a brief moment, and then he'd strap it back on again. Yes, Alex thought. Just a few quick seconds so he could feel the rush of the water. It would feel so good. Slowly, almost disbelieving of what he had talked himself into, he unbuckled the clips on the lifejacket. Each one came undone with a pop and he slipped the foam off his shoulders, lying the vest on the boat floor.

He heard his name among his friends' voices but ignored it. They were probably teasing him about Eliza again anyways.

He peered over the boat's edge again and stretched. His fingertips were almost breaking the surface of the water now. He stretched farther, ignoring how the hard metal edge of the boat dug into his ribs. If he could just reach a little farther…

And then he felt it. His fingers dipped into the rippling water streaming past. The cold shocked him for a minute, but soon he relaxed, wiggling his fingers happily as the jets of water flowed in between them. This was so amazing, this little moment in time, just him and the water. All anxiety of death and doom long subsided, he laughed. This was incredible. Why had he been so nervous? It seemed like nothing could stop him from—

"Alex?"

Alex's head snapped to his right to see all three of his friends watching him with different stages of confusion and delightedness splayed over their faces.

"Alex, are you-?"

John was cut off as Alex's split second of distraction caused him to lean much too far over the boat's edge. He didn't have time to scream as his body was tipped over the boat, seemingly hovering in thin air for a split second. Ice-cold terror pierced his chest like a knife. Shit. Memories flashed back before his eyes, and then time unfroze itself and he was plummeting towards the water, head first.

It was like hitting solid ice.

It hurt, he could feel his head exploding from the inside, but before he could do anything to right himself water filled his nose and eyes. He swallowed a mouthful of water and choked, kicking and thrashing to reach the surface. He was going to die, he couldn't swim, he was going to drown. Right in front of his friends….

Panic gripped him like icy hands and he kicked harder. The hands only tightened around him. He kept fighting, tooth and nail, desperately trying to draw in breath despite the water flooding his mouth, trying to rip the hands off of him. They wouldn't budge. The faint light from the surface was taunting him, flickering slightly as it grew farther and farther away. He forced his limbs to move and willed himself to believe that he was growing closer, even though it seemed like miles away. He was growing tired… Adrenaline was being replaced by exhaustion pumping through his veins….And he knew his time was running short, he only had a few more seconds before the spots crowding his vision took over.

His arms and legs now felt like they were full of lead, and his lungs were burning for sweet oxygen. He knew he was losing this fight-it was a losing battle. His nose burned. Alex felt the darkness pulling him down, deeper into the murky depths below. It was terrifying, that darkness. Calling him like a siren's mournful song, dragging him ever so slowly, and yet so fast at the same time. The fist deep in Alex's stomach clenched tighter. I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory…

Realization hit him like another brick in the chest. There was no help down here, among the snaking weeds and fish. No one to rescue him. Acceptance came next, floated into his mind like a numb relieve from the panic. Maybe this was payback, a punishment or penance of some sorts, for surviving that hurricane all those years ago. Because Alex knew he shouldn't have survived that. His old friends should have. His neighbors should have. But not him, the scrawny, weak little kid that washed up in the streets of New York. If he had one regret, it was that he never got a chance to say goodbye….both times, then and now. But it was too late now…there was nothing to do…nowhere to go but down. His eyes slipped closed, allowing himself to drift away...

Maybe something so alive was that way because of all the lives it took.

A/N: Ahh, cliffhanger! (Don't worry, the next chapter will be up by next week.) Your feedback means a lot to me, so please review or PM me with a story prompt you'd like to see in future Ham fics! And thanks so much for reading. :)