«•Lams Oneshots•»

Deceased? »•Angst•«

"Sir, all the flour has been destroyed. I just don't understand... why did we do this again, Colonel?" The curious, young soldier questioned. He hadn't enlisted too long ago, but he had already unfortunately seen war and what it did. As far as he knew, destroying bags of flour didn't give them any advantage.

"It's simple. So that the lobsterbacks cannot get to it." Alexander smiled, cracking his knuckles. It was one of the many little things that Washington allowed him a company for.

"Ah, that makes sense, Sir. I gu- wait? Is that Lee?" He squinted, staring into the distance to spot a figure running towards them in a panic.

"The redcoats are coming! The redcoats are coming!" Lee cried, running past Alexander and Edward, the soldier who stood next to him.

This earned a snort from the red-headed man. Lee would do anything for attention.

"Oh—Oh! The man's telling the truth!" Alexander yelled when he began to spot blobs of red pour in from over the hill.

"Sir, do we fight or flee? Sir? Sir!" Edward shouted, trying to quickly get Alexander's attention as the first barrage of bullets came through.

"Retreat! Everyone, retreat to the river!" Lieutenant colonel Hamilton ordered, began to sprint towards the trees himself, looking behind himself every few seconds or so.

"In the boats!" He exclaimed as more barrages of bullets hurled towards them. As men began to board the lifeboats, a few were shot down the second they got up.

It was widespread panic. Men being injured, killed, pushing each other out of the way. By the time all the surviving men had made it to the lifeboats, the redcoats had only gotten closer.

Soldiers were dropping quickly and Alexander couldn't take it anymore. Today wasn't his day to die, right? Maybe it was. Maybe he had lived his life and it was time to die. Just maybe.

Instead of getting more in depth of his thoughts, he quickly did what any man with the same thought process of Alexander Hamilton would.

He jumped off of the boat.

There was a splash and he was gone. As the soldiers quickly got anyway, they almost immediately noticed the missing person.

"Sir? Where's the Colonel?" One of the soldiers asked, looking around frantically.

"Soldiers. There is only one logical explanation for this," Lee mumbled, silencing them all, "The lieutenant colonel is dead."
•»•«•

"Men! You're all soaking wet and there seems to be no rain. Go dry yourselves off before reporting back to me. In that matter... Where is Hamilton?" Washington asked, raising an eyebrow.

He had been discussing strategies with his aide-de-camp and the rest of the generals. It was a bit amusing to see a company of thirty men in drenched clothes enter his tent, requesting to see him.

Lee walked forward, his head down, "Your Excellency, Colonel Hamilton... He... The redcoats started firing and we ran for the water to get away... We lost twenty men... Hamilton, he—" He paused for a moment. He could care less, but he knew it would dishearten the General. Especially Lieutenant Colonel Laurens, who he didn't care for either, but he stayed on his best side with the general.

Laurens was sitting right near the general, staring at Lee. The realization was drawn across his face even if the words hadn't been said yet.

Lee cleared his throat. "Dead."

At those words, tears began to run down John's face rapidly as he chocked on a sob. He didn't care who was watching him cry. All eyes went on him, which of course didn't help. He put his head down and just began to break down right there.

He couldn't be dead. He's not dead. His best friend— lover was not gone.

Lafayette quickly got up, walking around the table and kneeling down next to Laurens, wrapping an around around him. He only continued to cry and shake.

"Mon cher, tu sais qu'il ne reviendra pas. Crying will not bring him back. You have to be strong, right?" He whispered, watching as the blond man nodded. "Y-You're right..."

After the soldiers had left, it was completely silent. Some were mourning, some were praying, some just held hope.

Suddenly, the was a knock on the door. A simple knock.

The door opened and the soaking wet figure trudged inside, closed the door behind them, and hung up their jacket, huffing.

"Why does it look as if someone died? Why is everyone silent?" The figure asked, furrowing his eyebrows. John took note of the violet ribbon tying up their messy ginger hair and their eyes, which were a rare shade of iris. He didn't forget the freckles scattered upon their face either.

That was all he needed.

"Alexander!" He exclaimed, getting up and running over to the other man, embracing him tightly as the others sat there, wondering if they were missing something in the picture. Did they ever commit sodomy? Maybe. They'd never know.

"Um... Hello, John. Is everything alright?" Alexander muttered, oblivious to the situation.

"Everything is perfect now that you've arrived," Laurens sighed in content before pulling away from the hug and slapping Alexander as hard as he possibly could, leaving a slightly mark on his skin.

"Don't do that again! Do you hear me?! Don't scare us like that! If you had freaking died, I would've had a fit!" He yelled, scolding the shorter man.

Everyone just watched. They were definitely missing something.