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The cell door was thrown open, causing leaves to fly up, circling around each other for a while before descending down onto the cold stone floor.
He didn’t look up, didn’t fight against the chains keeping him tethered to the wall. He used to, at the very start. That was ages ago.
Footsteps drew nearer, and soon two black, familiar boots appeared in his field of vision, illuminated by what he assumed was candlelight.
“Brat,” a voice called. He didn’t react, but the face connected to that voice emerged in his mind. Ice-cold blue eyes, hair an ugly shade of brown. He clenched his eyes shut.
“Respond when I talk to you, you son of a bitch!” with a rattle of his chains, his head was pulled up. He grimaced, the other’s grip on his hair painful. Eyes opening, the face in his mind soon appeared in front of him, equipped with a sneer.
A loud slap was heard, followed by a burning sensation on the left side of his face. It soon faded into the constant pool of pain. His captor yanked his hair again, pulling him up to his feet.
“Where’d you get those bad manners from, hm?” the question was soft, but he could hear the layer of anger under it. He shrugged, and his captor inhaled sharply. Suddenly a hand was wrapped around his throat and panic filled him. The other simply smiled as he coughed and spluttered, desperate for a gasp of air.
After what felt like forever he was dropped down, knees buckling as they met the cold floor, chest heaving.
“You are nothing,” he heard his captor hiss. “Everything you love has been — and will be — destroyed.”
Something flickered inside him, and though he wasn’t sure why, his instincts told him that the statement was correct.
However, his attention shifted elsewhere as the sound of rapid footsteps grew and then stopped. For a while, all that could be heard was panting. He lifted his gaze.
Next to his captor was a younger man, in a similar red coat that the former also wore. He struggled to catch his breath before he spoke, his words panicked and rushed. “Si- Sir! We have to leave, they’re here!”
His captor’s eyes widened in surprise before they glanced in his direction. The other redcoat shook his head. “We don’t have enough resources to take him. Besides, I suspect he’s given us all that he will already.”
His captor snarled, crouching down next to him. He could feel the other’s lips against his ear, chills running through his body as his captor whispered his farewells. “Remember this, you brat: You bring nothing but destruction.”
He flinched, closing his eyes. The candlelight faded, and the two men left him alone with the shadows, leaving the door open. After a while, he opened his eyes. It was dark. His mind was blank.
“Lieutenant Laurens! He’s here- we found him!”
That was a voice he didn’t recognize. Stirring, he moved his limbs, familiar waves of pain flooding through them. Light filled the room as he looked up. Five men in blue coats stood in the entrance, staring at him. Something in them seemed vaguely familiar, but he wasn’t sure what. One of them approached, steps hesitant, one hand outstretched.
“Hammy— Alexander?”
The world stopped moving. He gasped, his life flashing before him as something clicked into place. His father, his mother, Jamie, the hurricane, Burr, Laf, Herc, Washington, Peggy, Angelica, Eliza, John— John. John .
Alexander. Alexander Hamilton. Him.
“Alex?” he snapped his head up. The other– John. John was closer now, worry evident in those calming eyes. For a second, he let himself relax, his memories slowly coming back to him as John advanced.
A drunk night at a pub, joining Washington’s army, having late night talks, strolling ouside in comfortable silence, kissing—
Kissing?
A hand landed on his shoulder, heavy. Cold fingers brushed against the bruises on his throat.
“Everything you love will be destroyed.”
“Oh, Alex,” John whispered. John, his lover .
He flinched, backing up against the wall behind him, his breathing unsteady. One hand clutched his chest, the other supporting his body. The grip those chains had around his wrists suddenly felt incredibly tight.
“Alex?” John reached out, and the image of John lying on the ground, a pool of blood under him flashed before his eyes.
“No!” his voice was hoarse. He couldn’t remember when he had last used it.
John froze. “What?” he questioned, scared, confused.
“Don’t– get away from me,” he choked out, eyes stinging. No. He wouldn’t cry.
“Alex, it’s okay. You’re safe,” John tried, but he shook his head. They didn’t understand.
“No. Please. Get away. You’ll– You’ll get hurt. You’ll all get hurt,” he said, words rushed. Something on John’s face shifted and he kneeled down, a comfortable length away from him.
“Alex, you’re safe. I’m safe. The redcoats have left, we’re safe,” John assured, but suspicion lingered in him. John reached out, his hand so close he could take it if he wanted to.
“Alexander, do you trust me?”
He lifted his hand slowly, hesitating. Taking a deep breath, he nodded and grabbed John’s hand, closing his eyes as John pulled him into a hug. The other’s familiar scent surrounded him as John stroked his hand through his hair, whispering affirmations into his ear.
When he opened his eyes again, his chains had been removed.
He was free. Alexander was free.
“Let’s go, yeah?” John asked, and Alexander responded with a nod. John hoisted him up, but when he let go, Alexander felt his knees give away, his pain peaking.
This time, he didn’t fall on the ground, collapsing into John’s arms instead.
“Sorry,” Alexander mumbled. John sighed, supporting him as he regained his footing.
“It’s alright, Alex. Everything’s going to be alright.”
Alexander believed him.