Purple automatically wanted to go back into the sweet release of sleep as soon as he was awake.
His side burst out with pain, the first thing he felt after the pounding in his head. Hell, his entire body ached from running for his life after that Admiral bitch chased him.
Good God, he hated it out here.
Struggling to sit up, Purple placed his hand towards the pain, breathing a large sigh of relied when he didn't feel a gaping hole in his side.
His worries didn't ease when his hand came back bloody.
"Making it clear: I fucking hate 1777." He hissed to himself, sparing a glance at the still sleeping Alexander.
Purple was surprised at how they had treated the boy. They had replaced his oversized clothes that Purple had used to make some clothes that could keep Alex at least sheltered from the elements. Instead, he was wearing a cream colored undershirt with a brown coat, light tan pants, and black boots.
His red curls were left alone, sprawling out in front of his face as he slept.
Purple thought it was cute, and glanced at the discarded clothes in the corner of the cell. Alexander's old clothes.
He still had his bag, thank god, and his hoodie. His mind started forming a plan. He could use the hoodie to pressure the wound and hopefully slow the bleeding, and use what he had in his bag to get them out of there.
Jumping for his hoodie, he quickly tied the sleeves together across the wound, and winced at the pain. Purple knew damn well King would probably end up shooting the bastard who'd shot him. He would kill to see that.
He grabbed his bag, making sure everything was in there. Everything was still there and intact.
He still had no signal, which sucked, but his phone thankfully still worked.
All he had to do now was think of a plan that could get him and a five year old out of a British encampment alive.
Wincing at the sting of his wound, Purple took another glance at the cell. It felt like prison, an experience Purple knew sucked but had never personally went through, and he hated it.
Murky, old, rotting walls that gave off a horrific stench, it made Purple wonder how Alex was sleeping so peacefully with the smell of the place.
Yep, seems like a perfect place to be when it came to a war.
Alex stirred, making Purple flinch. Christ, this whole thing had his nerves on edge.
"Ma...mama?" Alex's tiny voice said sleepily.
Fuck.
"Hey, Alex...you, uh, remember me?" Of course he didn't. Poor innocent Alex had barely recognized that a stranger was helping him.
"Your that...purple guy..." Alex said, blinking drowsiness out of his eyes.
Purple smiled softly, moving red curls put of his face. "Yep, that's me. And we're kind of in a bad situation, so you have got to stick with me and try not to do something that'll get us in big trouble. Okay?"
Alex's eyes widened. "Oh no...did father find out about the glass I broke? I swear I didn't mean to! I swear on it!"
Purples heart dropped at the mention of Alex's father. Most of the research he had done in earlier project ideas revealed that his father left after learning that Alex may not have been his biological son, and his mother Rachel was still married to her first husband when she met him.
Purple hated how similar their backstories were.
"Hey, at least you weren't born out of wedlock." King said, wrapping an arm around Purple's shoulders after they had researched Hamilton's history.
"That could still be true, not like I care."
"Fair argument. But still! You guys are exactly carbon copies when it comes to your backstories!" King reassured. "Did your cousin kill themselves after your mom?"
"No, and I also wasn't taken in by a cousin. My whole family went in complete different directions after my dad left."
King's arm tightened, wrapped around him comfortingly. "Hey, it's okay. You have me and the others now."
Purple returned a small smile.
"Come on, King. It can't take you that long to rescue your kid. Lilac, I swear to God, if you didn't tell him."
"Purple? Okey?"
Shit. Right. He was protecting a five year old boy.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm alright. Let's just...find a way out, okay?"
"Oki!"
God, Purple missed having a happy childhood.
Aaron Burr's lists of places to search for Hamilton within a thirty mile radius did not include a seemingly abandoned warehouse ten miles away from their base.
Meaning Hamilton could not have gone very far, and had not deserted them, as clothes clearly belonging to Hamilton proved.
It only made Burr assume the worst.
"Shit, no, dear God, anyone but him."
Burr mounted his horse and rode in the direction the clothes seemed to go in. Running into a warehouse five miles into the ride, Burr dismounted and hid, watching the warehouse intently.
British soldiers wandered around inside, watching intently at a certain part of the building. Burr quickly crawled to the point where they were looking, staring through a hidden window.
Two children.
What?
Purple was beginning to sense someone was watching them, and his thoughts were only confirmed when Alex tugged on his arm.
"There's a man in a blue coat watching us." Alex said, his voice wavering.
Purple whipped his head around, jumping at the sight of a person in the small window he'd barely made any notice to.
Noticing it could be opened a little, he grabbed at the latch and pulled the small opening open.
"Who are you?"
"Aaron Burr, my good sir."