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paperweight-inshadesofgreige · 6 months

Text

⋆ i will gladly join the fight ⋆

characters ☆ alexander hamilton, george washington, john laurens, marquis de lafayette pairings ☆ alexander hamilton & john laurens, alexander hamilton & marquis de lafayette, alexander hamilton & george washington

tws ☆ minor mentions of gun violence, blood, stabbing

whumpcember day 4. hidden injury (+ alt 1. stabbed ) medical inaccuracies beware (idk how injuries work help/hj)

fic under cut

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“Raise a glass!” someone in the crowd shouted, and John shoved Alexander, who looked back with a grin on his face.

The energy in the room was positive, something it rarely was nowadays. However, the soldiers gathered there had just won a battle, ‘absolutely slaughtered’ the British, according to someone. On top of that, no one had been injured badly, so it wasn’t a surprise that spirits were high. Even Washington was laughing, congratulating his soldiers.

“Colonel Hamilton!” someone called, and John watched Alexander smile, the warm sunlight streaming in glowing on his face. Alexander had led the troops, had planned the attack. The whole battle had been won mostly due to his efforts. Washington had finally given him a chance and he had made sure to take it.

“Give us a speech!” another voice urged, several others joining in. Something flashed across Alexander’s face as the others pushed him to the center of the room, giving him a cup of wine from the bottle specially opened for the occasion. Pride, perhaps, John assumed, cheering with his fellow soldiers.

Eventually the room fell silent, everyone awaiting Alexander’s words. However, Alexander seemed unresponsive, his eyes staring into the distance. John furrowed his eyebrows, confusion and worry mixing.

“Is it just me or does he look kind of… how you say, pale?” Lafayette pitched in, whispering into John’s ear. He had barely had the time to finish before the cup in Alexander’s hands tipped and clattered to the floor, the sound echoing, the wine spilling out. Quiet murmurs circled the room as Alexander swayed on his feet.

“Shit,” John cursed, rushing to his feet, starting to push through the crowd. He could see Washington doing the same, but neither of them were fast enough to get to the younger before he fell forward, his knees buckling as he crashed to the floor.

✮

Alexander did his best not to wince, to turn his grimace into a grin as John shoved him. Now that the adrenaline was fading, the stab wound in his side throbbed with pain, making him dizzy and nauseous. The suffocating heat in the room, accompanied by loud noises and bright lights certainly weren’t helping.

They had won the battle, though — that was all Alexander had wanted. Maybe now Washington could see that he was more than just a secretary, that he was also a soldier. And a good one. After all, his plan had succeeded. They had caught the British by surprise, just like in his calculations, completely overpowering them. Due to his carefully orchestrated attack, no one had had serious injuries. Except him.

Alexander remembered that sugar high he had been riding on, adrenaline pumping in his veins. He had shot one redcoat, turned around for a while. And then the sharp pain had invaded his senses, causing him to pause. Seemed like the redcoat had gotten his revenge, inserting a dagger and pulling it out of Alexander's body just before dying. Alexander remembered taking deep breaths while gawking at his wound, a trickle of blood flowing out.

Having done some medical research, he had known that the spot wasn’t fatal. He had known that he could carry on until the battle was won, and he had planned to get the wound checked out after that.

But then he had heard that no one else had been injured, and though somewhere deep down he knew it wasn’t true, a voice in his head kept telling him that he was weak, that he was worse than the others. That if he told the others about his injury now, he would never lead another battalion again.

So he had hidden it, covered it with his coat. The adrenaline had helped with masking his pain, but now it made his head swim. Never mind that, he was fine. He had to be fine.

Someone called his name, and he managed a smile, hoping that it came forward as determined. He made out the word ‘speech’ before the crowd moved, pushing him forward. He couldn’t stop his face from distorting for a split second, people shoving at his wound, increasing the pain. A glass was pushed into his hands and then he heard silence fall.

Shit. He was probably supposed to say something. Alexander struggled to form a coherent thought, his fingers slipping. A loud, sharp clash was heard along with liquid sloshing around. Alexander was too out of it to recognize what was going on, but a small voice inside him told him that he had fucked up.

And then his world faded to black.

✮

“Alex!” John shoved the last people out of the way, rushing towards Alexander. Only when he kneeled down next to him did he realize how pale Alexander was, how drops of sweat gleamed on his forehead. “Oh god, Alex, wake up.”

Washington came to his side, lifting Alexander so he was leaning against him while John checked his pulse. However, he paused upon seeing his hands come back red. Frozen with shock, his eyes flickered around Alexander’s body until they landed at his side. The jacket had been pushed away, and now revealed a dark red spot. John brought one hand up to his mouth.

“What is it?” Washington asked, and John could only point at the injury, his hands shaking. His vision grew blurry as Washington gasped, lifting Alexander’s shirt to take a closer look at what seemed to be a stab wound.

John inhaled sharply, bile rising in his throat. How could’ve he not noticed? God, he had probably made it worse, shoving and shouting and— oh, he was such a shitty friend. He shook his head, thoughts ringing in his ears. He needed to get it together, he wasn’t the one that was hurt.

“Is he— is he going to be alright?” he asked, his voice shaky as Washington examined the wound, worry coating his face. The commander let out a sigh.

“I don’t know, Laurens,” he said as a doctor rushed to their side. “I hope so.”

John looked away as the doctor got to work, doing his best to keep down the alcohol he had just consumed. He had never had his way with wounds, the blood and flesh always nauseating.

That’s when he noticed how quiet it was. Scanning around, he noticed Lafayette and a few other soldiers hanging back, radiating unsure and tense energy. The rest of the soldiers had left – thank god.

“Jack?” a weak voice catched his attention, and he spun around. Alexander’s eyes were barely open, the look in them glazed.

“Alex,” he replied, placing one hand on Alexander’s shoulders, who shivered and hissed in pain.

“‘m sorry,” Alexander slurred, filling John with despair. “Was… I was… weak. Couldn’t— no one— no one else got hurt.”

Every word he took drained him a little of his energy, leaving him panting. John wanted to say something, anything, but to his horror, Alexander closed his eyes again, his head dropping down.

“Alex?” John called out, but his friend had turned unresponsive again. John turned to the doctor, who sighed.

“The wound isn’t infected,” he started. John let out a breath of relief and Washington’s muscles relaxed a little. “But I suppose the pain he’s feeling is quite intense, hence the passing out.”

“How– what can we do?” John cut in, leaning forward. The doctor took out a bottle of alcohol, some tissues and bandages.

“I’m going to disinfect the wound, but I suggest turning away if you’re sensitive,” he simply said, and John flushed with embarrassment, biting down on his lip as he obeyed.

Then he heard liquid slosh, and the next moment Alexander was screaming. With a quick motion, John turned around, his breath catching in his throat as he saw Alexander’s body shake with pain, his eyes half-open, tears streaming down his cheeks. The doctor was pressing something to his wound, and Washington had his arms wrapped around Alexander, whispering into his ear as he kept the younger in place.

John clenched his eyes shut, Alexander’s screams filling his head. Seeing Alexander in that state was hell, and he felt tears brimming in the corners of his eyes. God.

“John,” a voice tinged with a french accent called, and he felt a steady hand placed on his shoulders. Opening his eyes, he looked at Lafayette, who was surprisingly calm. Unlike him. “Shh, calm down. He’s going to be fine, you know he is.”

John nodded stiffly, his breathing shaky. He knew Alexander wouldn't succumb to some stupid injury, but him surviving seemed so unrealistic, with those screams tearing their way out of his throat— and then they stopped.

John lifted his head with a start. The doctor had moved on to wrapping Alexander’s side with some bandages. Washington’s grip had loosened, but his whispers hadn’t ceased as he continued to hold Alexander, who was unconscious again. John forced himself to take deep breaths, resisting the urge to wrap Alexander in a hug.

“That should do it,” the doctor said, standing up. “His pain should start fading soon. Just make sure he gets a lot of bed rest and doesn’t move around.”

Washington nodded, picking Alexander up. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, sir,” the doctor bowed before leaving, the tenseness in the room fading too. Washington sighed, motioning for John and Lafayette to follow as he made his way to the three’s sleeping quarters, placing Alexander down on his bed.

“Watch him for me, yeah?” he asked, receiving two nods. “Come inform me when he’s awake, I’d like to talk to him about… hiding injuries.”

“Yes, sir,” Lafayette said, and Washington walked out the door, closing it softly after him.

That’s when John allowed himself to cry, a shaky exhale followed by soundless sobs. Lafayette wrapped his arms around him, his body shaking too.

“We failed him, Laf,” John choked out. “He was in pain and discomfort and I– I fucking shoved him, Laf. Fuck.”

“Je sais,” Lafayette answered, his voice small. “Je sais.”

“No,” John opened his eyes upon feeling a weak grasp on his hand. Alexander hadn’t opened his eyes, but his lips were moving. “Isn’t your fault. M’sorry.”

John could only sigh as Alexander drifted to sleep.

#whumpcember2023 #day: 4 #alt 1 #whump #hamilton whump #hamilton fanfiction

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