Chapter Twenty Seven
John Laurens
John had been the first to rush to Hamilton and Burr following Burr's collapse. He had enlisted one or two of his men - as many could be spared in the midst of a battle - to assist him in recovering the men. Both Hamilton and Burr felt like rag dolls. John removed Hamilton's cravat - something which would have mortified Hamilton, had he been conscious - and pressed his fingers into the soft flesh of his neck, looking desperately for his pulse.
There was a pulse. John let out a sigh of relief, then hurried to get Hamilton on his horse. He left the other men in charge of getting Burr to the medic's tent. John did not care nearly as much about Burr's safety as he cared about Hamilton's.
"Stay with me, Alex." He murmured, quiet enough that the surrounding men would not hear.
He set to work lifting Hamilton's limp body onto his horse. Hamilton was heavier than John had expected him to be. A few of John's men moved towards them, offering their assistance where John would accept it. Ordinarily, John would shy away from allowing anyone to touch Hamilton, especially when he was injured. However, John was acutely aware that they remained in the middle of a battlefield, where bullets and cannonballs were zipping by every few minutes. Getting Hamilton to safety was his priority.
Between John and his men, they were able to lift Hamilton onto the horse. They laid him out vertically across the horse. His beautiful head, now covered in blood, was drooped over the left shoulder of John's horse. His legs dangled against the right shoulder of John's horse pathetically.
John did not dwell upon Hamilton's appearance. He climbed onto the horse, set back in his saddle to afford Hamilton room in front of him. He urged his horse forward, setting the pace at a speed that would allow them to reach the medic's tent quickly, without creating any additional danger to Hamilton. He could not risk Hamilton's death. He had only recently acclimated to the feeling of having a future with Hamilton beyond the war.
As John rode toward the medic's tent, he noticed Washington watching him. Washington's eyes were set on Hamilton's lifeless figure. Washington's face was pale. It appeared that, from viewing Hamilton's limp and bloodied body, he believed that Hamilton had perished in the battle. John did not have the time or inclination to correct Washington's mistake.
He reached the medic's tent after about ten minutes of riding. The tent was fully occupied by soldiers, both wounded and deceased. The physician turned to look at John as he approached. His expression was frazzled. John did not know if he could afford another addition to his tent. Still, he dismounted his horse and led it closer to the tent. He would move a wounded man out of his bed to give it to Hamilton, if he had to.
"Is this man an officer?" The physician inquired.
According to American ideals, the availability of a physician would not be contingent on Hamilton's status of an officer. Instead, the physician would treat patients equally, on a "first come, first serve" basis. However, the men who fought for America's ideals only believed in them insofar as they were convenient and did not strip those in power of their privilege. John felt the full weight of this hypocrisy as he transferred Hamilton's limp body from the back of his horse to a bed.
"Yes." He told the physician. "He is one of General Washington's most valued aides."
The physician nodded, his expression grave.
"I will do all that I can to save him." He told John.
John nodded. He waited for a moment, not wishing to part from Hamilton's side. He wished to remain beside him until he opened his eyes once more.
He noticed Burr lying in a nearby bed. The men must have transported Burr faster than John was able to transport Hamilton, likely because the men did not care for Burr the way that John cared for Hamilton. Burr was still unconscious and was being ignored. John could not allow the physician to ignore Hamilton the way that he was ignoring Burr.
"Colonel, please." The physician did not agree with John's decision to remain by Hamilton's side. "General Washington's protocol requires that you return to the battle while I tend to this man's injuries."
John chafed at the physician's criticism, but understand the necessity of heeding his words. He could not risk a reprimand from Washington over a matter concerning Hamilton. Suspicions were high enough as it was. John was not willing to risk Hamilton's reputation for his own peace of mind. Hamilton would have never forgiven him for something so ruinous to his career.
With great reluctance, John returned to his horse. He mounted the beast and urged it to return to the battlefield. He was no longer afraid to perish on the field, as he had been at every battle before. If Hamilton was destined to die on the physician's table, John wished to die not long after him.
Alexander Hamilton
Alexander awoke with a start. He could not remember where he was, or what had transpired prior to his falling asleep. His head ached terribly. He gagged on the overwhelming stink of rotting flesh, dried blood, and vomit. His vision was fuzzy. His limbs felt heavy - far too heavy to move him away from where he was currently laying.
"Colonel Hamilton?" A voice that Alexander did not recognize stung his ears.
"Mm?" He winced, hoping that whomever was addressing him would speak quietly in their response.
Instead of words, there was a sigh of relief. The voice, a decidedly male voice, then addressed others. It sounded as though he was giving commands. Alexander wondered if he had been captured by the British. He wondered if he had the energy to care, if he had. He certainly did not have the energy to escape.
"Colonel Hamilton, please drink some water." Another male voice suggested. Like the last one, this voice was too loud for Alexander's taste. His head throbbed at the sound.
Alexander cracked an eye open. He was in a tent, of sorts. It was a shoddy tent. The shoddy nature of the tent reassured Alexander that he was not in the hands of the British. Only the American militia could boast such unprofessional supplies. He was lying on a makeshift bed - a cot which laid upon the dry summer grass. Above him stood a man wearing a blood-soaked smock. The man was holding a tin cup which, presumably, was full of water.
Alexander struggled to lift his arm enough to accept the cup of water. The movement caused excruciating pain to ripple down his arm and throughout his body. He gritted his teeth and accepted the cup without a word of complaint. He was stronger than whatever injury had been inflicted upon him.
"Very good, Colonel Hamilton." The man - presumably, a physician's assistant - approved.
"Atta boy, Hammie." Burr's voice contributed.
Alexander sat up - the motion causing him enough pain to momentarily deprive him of his vision - and looked around for Burr. He had believed himself to be alone in the care of the physician.
Burr was lying three cots away from him. He was propped up against a saddlebag. He looked rather worse for the wear. His skin was sallow, his posture was lazy, and his smile did not have its usual bite. The sight of Burr seemed to have given Alexander's memory a jumpstart. He remembered the chain of events which led to his presence in the medic's tent.
"Burr," Alexander frowned. "I trust that you are not going to attempt to stand only to fall upon me for a second time?"
Burr did not seem offended by Alexander's remark. He rolled his eyes, still smiling faintly.
"I saved your life at a great risk to my own." He asserted.
"An interesting perspective on the matter, to be sure." Alexander's voice was raspy. He attempted to sit up to match Burr's stance, but did not have a saddle bag to prop himself against. He fell back upon his elbows lamely. He tried not to let the failure impact his conversation with Burr. "Unfortunately, I fail to see how it is that you saved my life by rendering me unconscious in the middle of an active battlefield."
"I pulled you from under your dead horse, Hamilton. If not for me, you would have had hundreds of bayonet holes converting you into a human rendition of swiss cheese." Burr responded, still smiling.
Alexander knew that Burr had been helpful in extracting him from the dangerous situation. Still, he could not concede that he had needed Burr's help getting out from under the thousand pound animal. To do so would risk admitting that he did not have the situation under control. He needed to convince Washington that he did not need assistance on the battlefield in order to achieve a command. He could not have Burr ruining such an important achievement. He had come so close; leading Lafayette's men was his moment to shine as a commander.
"I was perfectly capable of extricating myself from the predicament, thank you." Alexander said in a matter-of-fact manner. "I accepted your assistance purely because I believed that it would be more efficient than crawling out, myself. Had I known the acceptance would render me an invalid for the remainder of the battle, I would not have accepted it for all the gold in Spain."
Burr nodded, smiling to himself in quiet amusement.
Alexander flopped back down onto his cot, leaving Burr to bask in his self-importance. He did not have the strength to argue with Burr for much longer. His arms had been trembling from the exertion of holding himself up throughout their argument.
Once settled back onto his cot, Alexander dozed off without meaning to. He only awoke when his body was jostled very much without his consent. His eyes snapped open. His mind, still foggy from pain, reeled through his memories leading up to him lying on the cot in the medic's tent.
Washington was standing a few feet away from his cot. He was red-faced as he talked to the physician in a hushed, clipped tone. Alexander shifted on his cot, straining his ears to pick up what it was that Washington was saying. He wondered if he was asking if Alexander was still capable of fighting. Alexander would show the physician how capable he was, should the physician dare to tell Washington that he was not.
"There," Alexander heard John's voice. He looked around. "Look, his eyes are opened."
Washington turned to look at Alexander. The movement revealed John, who had been standing behind Washington. Alexander ignored Washington, who was watching Alexander with a cautious, still red-faced, expression. Instead, he looked to John. John was covered in blood. Alexander wondered if the blood was horse blood, as the blood caking his own body was. He could not imagine John shedding any other type of blood. John smiled, the white of his teeth standing out against the darkened dried blood on his face. Alexander ventured a small smile in returned.
"Hamilton." Washington interrupted the happy reunion. He brushed John aside on his way to Alexander's cot. He pulled a chair up beside the cot, perching upon it and looking down at Alexander critically. Alexander could not help but fidget somewhat under his intense gaze.
"Your Excellency," Alexander forced himself to smile at Washington. He was close to achieving a command. He could not risk igniting Washington's temper at such an important moment. "I beg you forgive me for not bowing in your presence. Were my limbs within my command, I would be happy to oblige you such a courtesy."
Washington smiled faintly. He did not allow himself to laugh in the presence of other soldiers, but Alexander could tell that he had earned such an affectionate display through his words. Washington appreciated his sense of humor above all of his other qualities - something which Alexander found remarkable. He had never considered himself particularly amusing before he had become acquainted with Washington.
"I will forgive you for your transgression." Washington assured him, still smiling. "Are you...well? The physician tells me that you suffered a tremendous bout of heat stroke in addition to minor injuries from...from…"
Washington turned to look at John. He had forgotten the exact nature of the physician's words.
"Some sort of blunt trauma." John supplied helpfully. He smiled at Alexander warmly. It was the kind of smile that made Alexander's heart ache in his chest. At times, the extent to which he loved John frightened him. He had never met another person who could make his heart ache with just a single smile.
"Likely from your horse being shot out from under you." John continued, unaware of the effect he had on Alexander.
Alexander nodded. He was careful to return his attention to Washington, knowing that Washington would begin to feel insecure if he dedicated too much of his attention to John. He had to stroke Washington's ego - among other things - if he was to reap any reward for his valor that day.
"I am well. Thank you, Your Excellency." He assured Washington with a warm smile. "I believe I am mostly recovered already."
He struggled to sit up to prove his point to Washington. He could not risk Washington coming to view him as an infirm. He had to portray himself as able-bodied. He ignored the pain that such a demonstration brought about. He could survive such pain, if it was necessary to cinch a command.
"Alex, you should not -" John began to protest. He immediately realized the error of speaking out and shut his mouth.
Alexander could not help but resent John for his words. He knew that he was supposed to appreciate John for caring about his well-being, but he could not have John hovering around him and Washington and making efforts to coddle him. He cast John a look of disapproval. John understood the rebuke and looked to his feet guiltily.
Washington looked over his shoulder at John. When he returned his gaze to Alexander, he looked pleased. Alexander was not surprised that Washington enjoyed watching Alexander reject any sentiments from John which might have a romantic context. Washington preferred to believe that he was first in Alexander's heart, and that John was merely someone Alexander passed time with when Washington was otherwise indisposed. Washington's vanity had forced him to go so far as to endorse the relationship, telling Alexander that he understood that the demands of his office forced him to devote less attention to Alexander than Alexander deserved. Now, however, he seemed to want undisputed loyalty.
"You should rest." Washington basked in the luxury of being the only one who could act as a nurse to Alexander. "The battle is over. Rebuild your strength for the next one."
"Did we win?" Alexander asked, ignoring the expression on John's face.
If he looked at John, he knew that all would be lost. He could lose everything if he allowed his love for John to blind him.
Washington's smile faded into something grim. Alexander had made a mistake in asking for the outcome of the battle. Washington did not like to be reminded of his precarious position as the commander-in-chief, not even by friends.
"It was a stalemate." Washington replied, looking around for anyone who might be listening in. "I would like you to draft the letter to Congress, once you are well enough. It is important that we are honest about the nature of the battle, while…"
"I understand." Alexander replied before Washington was forced to either admit he exaggerated his victories to Congress, or was forced to sit in uncomfortable silence while everyone listening was left to make their own inferences.
Washington nodded, satisfied with Alexander's answer.
"You should rest." He said after a moment. "You have been through a great ordeal. General Lafayette has told me you commanded the men and rallied General Lee's forces on his behalf. You have behaved honorably today. It has not gone unnoticed."
"Thank you, Your Excellency." Alexander allowed himself to hope that Washington's words would turn into an offer of a command of his own once he was fully healed.
Washington smiled slightly, then rose to his feet. He moved to exit the tent. He turned to look at John expectantly. He clearly wished for John to exit as well, so that he and Alexander would not have time alone. Washington was just as prone to jealousy as John, though he expressed his jealousy in much different ways.
"If you do not need my services, Your Excellency, I would like to visit with Colonel Hamilton and Colonel Burr." John said. Alexander blinked, startled that John had dared to defy Washington's expectations. John had stood up to him plenty, but neither of the young men had dared cross Washington.
"Of course." Washington nodded in assent. His tone was distant, his expression was icy. "Good afternoon, Colonel Laurens."
John nodded deferentially. "Your Excellency."
Washington skulked out of the tent without further incident. Once he was out of the tent, John turned to focus on Alexander. He smiled brightly. Alexander had not expected him to smile. Alexander had expected John to pout and flaunt his jealousy over Alexander catering to Washington. Instead, John plopped down in the seat that Washington had vacated and folded his hands in his lap. He leaned closer to Alexander, examining him with a smile on his face.
"Are you really feeling well?" He asked in a knowing tone. "Or were you afraid of General Washington ruling you out as an injured party?"
Alexander smiled bashfully.
"It is...painful." He admitted with some reluctance. "But I believe that I will be well very soon. John, I apologize for...that is, I know that you are aware of the unique obligations which I must oblige, but I…"
John smiled at Alexander's poor attempt at an apology. His smile made Alexander smile, too.
"I know." He assured Alexander. "And I do not care about what you must say to General Washington, and what I must not say in front of him. I care only that you are here, alive and getting well with each passing minute. I believed that you would perish while I was in the battle."
"It does not look as though your performance suffered for your concern." Alexander remarked, looking pointedly at the blood still smeared all over John's face and clothes.
John's smile turned sheepish.
"I fear that you would be angry with me, if you saw how I performed." He said. "I believed that you were going to be dead by the time the battle was over and I...I did not wish to be separated from you for much longer. I did not wish to be accused of suicide, however, and so I took many risks that I did not believe I was prepared to handle. As it turns out, I am a much more adept soldier than I believed myself to be."
Alexander's eyes widened slightly. It alarmed him that John would resort to such drastic measures as wishing for death solely because he had believed that Alexander was dying. He did not like the idea of John charging through the battlefield in search of death, not even if it made John realize that he was a worthy soldier.
"John." He disapproved. "You cannot -"
"I know." John looked down, ashamed. He then looked up, meeting Alexander's eyes again. There was something behind those eyes that had not been there before. "But I will not promise you that, should you expire during the course of this war, I will not seek out a similar path. I have imagined a life without you, Hamilton. It was a life that was not worth living."
"This is not a life worth living." Burr grumbled from his cot three cots away from Alexander.
He had clearly overheard their conversation. John's face morphed into one of utter mortification. Alexander did not care as much as John appeared to. He knew that Burr would not say anything to anyone. Alexander knew Burr's dark secrets, and Burr knew his. Their friendship was founded upon the fact that both knew that if they released a disparaging fact about one, the other would have ten disparaging facts to release.
"Shut up, Burr." He mumbled. "For it is no one's fault but yours that we are here."
"I saved your life." Burr protested.
"You did not." Alexander assured him.
He rolled his eyes and looked back at John. He was only mildly surprised when he saw that John was smiling. It was the kind of smile that made his heart ache.
