Hamilton One Shots

If You Die

My name is Alexander Hamilton, and there's a million things I haven't done. But once the war is over, I will. Just you wait.

I scribbled words into my journal.

"Alexander, you're going to get a cramp in your hand from all that writing." Laurens said.

"So be it, I want my story to be told." I shot back.

"Alexander, can I ask you a question?" Laurens was laying on his cot, facing the top of the tent.

"Go ahead, I suppose you'll ask either way." I mumbled the last part.

"Why do you write like you're running out of time?" He asked. His hands were folded across his chest, the same way they are when you're placed in a casket.

"I don't know." I replied. "You never write."

"I don't see a reason to." He was calm, Laurens was always calm off the battlefield.

"Well, Laurens, I suppose your story will be quite short then." I stated matter of factly.

"My name is John." He said. I didn't like calling him John. It was too boring for the person he was.

"Yes, but your last name is Laurens." I said. I never turned to face him, afraid of my own feelings. I tried to remain collected while I was around him.

"It's not like you're General Washington or anything." He said. I could practically hear him smirking.

"I'll have men under my command soon enough, dear Laurens," I exaggerated his name, just to make him mad.

He huffed and I heard him shuffling on his cot.

Washington's voice rang through the camp, "Let's go men!" He hollered.

Laurens made his feelings towards Washington's command very known through his groaning as he rolled off of the cot. I closed my leather bound journal and put it under my pillow, following Laurens out of our tent.

We were marching again. Towards a field where many redcoats were also marching. God, I hated marching.

Battles always went quickly for me. The next thing I knew, I turned to face John, who was reloading his rifle. In slow motion I saw a bullet strike him in the side. He collapsed to the ground and I dropped my weapon, running to him. Everything seemed to be happening so slowly. "John!" I shrieked. My voice was harsh and broke. He held his side, where the bullet had struck him.

"You called me John." He said, his voice barely audible with the sounds of warfare around us.

"Hang on, I'll get you out of here." I said, tears rolled down my cheeks and I made eye contact with Washington, who rode over on his white horse.

"Son, what happened?" His voice was calm and caring, not at all like mine.

"He was shot," I started, "he was shot and I'm trying to get him out of here!" I yelled. Washington dismounted his horse and helped me get John onto it. I climbed up and grabbed the reigns. I tossed Washington his rifle and rode his horse back to camp. "John, you stay awake, you hear me?" I said, one arm around him, and one on the reigns.

"You called me John," he said again.

"You're going to be okay," I cried, "You're going to be fine, I promise." I looked down and his eyes were fluttering shut. "No! John Laurens! Do not die on me!" I got into camp and pulled him down form the horse. "Help!" I yelled, "Someone help!" I was smaller than him, and I couldn't hold myself higher on my toes, or talk as if I were better than him. Shoving extra socks in the bottom of my boots especially wasn't helping me carry him to the infirmary. He was too heavy and he slumped to the ground, "John! No!" I cried.

"Alexander, I must say, I quite like you." He mumbled. He was smiling up at me.

"John, don't you die on me." I said, tears fell onto his shirt. He laughed, doctors were rushing around us, trying to treat him. His head rested in my lap and the doctors took advantage of his body being sprawled out in front of me, treating the wound. "John, I swear to God." I said, "I swear, if you die on me I'll kill you."

He laughed again, "You're funny Alexander."

"No, no no no no no no no no. John please don't die. God, John, stay alive, please. For me." I cried. I was hysterical.

Someone pulled me away from John, "I quite like you Alexander," John said, "perhaps if I say I love you, it will make this situation a bit better."

"No John! It doesn't make it better!" I yelled. It was Hercules, he was pulling me away. "Don't you die! I swear I'll kill you if you die!" I yelled. Hercules put me on his shoulder and carried me away.

"Hey, Laurens," I said stepping into the tent he was in. He looked at me and smiled.

"Hello Alexander." He rasped.

I sat on the floor next to him. "I guess I don't have to kill you." I said.

He took my hand, "I guess not." His voice was nearly gone.

"I love you too." I said quietly.

"I quite like that."