Chapter Text
All Trussed Up and Still Nowhere to Go
“You have to let go.” | barbed wire | bound
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When Alexander Hamilton had bravely volunteered on the mission to go upstream and destroy the remainder of the supplies which had been abandoned and were in danger of falling into British hands, he did not quite expect it to go so horribly. It filled him with a terrible delight as he floated and tossed around in the icy river as his face basked in the heat from the flames he had created as wagons and supplies were set ablaze. Ash settled in his hair and all was so bright and dazzling that he could barely feel his legs getting weaker in the icy cold waters he floundered in. But then, just as awesome as the sight was, all came crashing back down to reality as he was yanked by his collar from behind and tumbled backwards and head first into the water. The world turned dark and cold and muted, all the fiery glory of his successful mission drowned out by the waves crashing over him. He choked and gasped as something hauled him backwards and slowly, as his head broke up above the waves again, he realised it was hands grabbing him.
Ah. He’d been caught. On the battlefield it was easy to see your enemy, the blood red coats marching towards them and shooting bullets which burst out through the backs of blue coats. Blue coats which were worn by people who had taken over the role of home, comfort, and happiness, even in the pits of mud, blood, and violent deaths. But looking ahead now, the men who had him could be on the same side for all he knew. They were cold like him, shivering like him, and stripped to bare shirts like him. Hair was plastered over eyes and water dripped down their faces and skewed their vision. And no matter how bedraggled these men looked, Alexander realised with terror that he could not fight back no matter how hard he twisted and thrashed. The fear gripped him harder until his knees buckled and he crashed right into one of them and swallowed a lot of the river water which burned his throat and nose
That was the last thing he remembered, and the first thing he thought about when he awoke some time later. He had no idea where he was, just that it was dark and on any other night he would have said the moon and stars looked pretty and the night, though frozen, was tranquil. But in these circumstances, everything was an omen, from the stars that twinkled overhead to the long shadows of the trees. Alexander was aware of a cut under his eye, although he wasn’t sure if it was from the soldiers or from the chaos of getting thrown about in the river. He was also aware that his shoulders ached with a burning vengeance and his wrists were numb and held tightly behind him, leaning against something solid. As he fumbled about in the dark, he realised he was tied to a tree.
“Hello?” He cried out, the fear in his voice betraying him.
“Shut up.” A voice said bluntly from behind him, and what he could only guess was the butt of a gun rammed into the back of his skull. He jumped in fright and tried to reorient himself; he had no idea anyone was standing behind him, and now he had no idea how many others were there as his whole body faced one direction. The tethered bounds were tight, and they had done a good job of securing him. If only that could be a source of comfort.
“What do you want from me?” His heart thumped and lept in his chest as if it wanted to burst out of his body and run before he could.
But they ignored him and carried on chatting. Alex had to begin straining to listen, which told him they were walking away from him. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a flash of red from the sleeve of one of the soldiers.
As he listened, he tried to keep his cool and collect himself but it was not working very well. More voices and footsteps approached and it was clear to him now he was in a small sub-camp of redcoats. But he was the only prisoner, which couldn’t be good news for him. The tree branches creaked above him and he twisted to listen to what sounded like a rush of footsteps and then an argument. Soldiers were scuttling about behind him, and officers were shouting at other officers, yet nobody seemed to be too bothered about him . He wasn’t sure whether now was the right time to be offended. He huffed and sighed and drew a deep breath as he strained against the restraints in an attempt to break free but it was entirely in vain.
“We don’t have time. Leave him to the wolves.” Was the last thing he heard them say, followed by hushed footsteps that scurried away. It wasn’t until it had been some time since the last footsteps disappeared, he realised he was utterly alone and had been abandoned in the woods.
“I’m Alexander Hamilton, you fools!” He growled and screamed in a rage. If only they had asked his name, they would have known he was one of the aides of the very General they wished to kill. Maybe they wouldn’t have left him for dead.
Some time later, out of sheer exhaustion, he fell asleep. It was one of those moments where one moment transitions to another seamlessly and when he awoke again he was outraged he had let himself fall asleep to begin with. The night was colder now, and even darker than before. The moon had begun to duck behind some clouds and the wind picked up slightly. Some hours must have passed, as his clothes and hair were a little drier than before. But all that time in cold wet clothes now left him a shivering, teeth-chattering mess. His jaw muscles were tense and aching from being so tight and his shoulders had lost all feeling long ago. Every notion he had previously owned about himself being a hero vanished under this new shell of a man. He was fading fast. His eyes grew heavy and his mind foggy as he stated bleakly into the nothingness ahead of him. Then, in the distance, he heard the thump of hooves against the forest floor. Even with the likelihood of it being an enemy soldier, he decided to take his chances,
“Hey! Redcoat!” He screamed, “I don’t think this is a kind way to treat your prisoners.”
The hooves beat in a faster rhythm until our crashed of the trees a beautiful white stallion that seemed to glimmer in the moonlight, although maybe that was down to Hamilton’s fancy of a rescuer. The horse was familiar, and shocking to see. It shouldn’t be here, and neither should the rider. On top of the horse sat a firm, stoic George Washington who looked like something straight out of a painting as the dull blues were illuminated under the soft moonlight. Hamilton sat, shaking and frozen and tied up, a sorry sight.
“Sir!” He said through chattering teeth. “Mm don’t think this is good. You could be seen.” He began to slur and slump to the side as safety let his guard down and his energy crashed.
“Alexander.” It was all Washington could say as he kept down from his horse and knelt in the mud beside him. Glancing quickly about him, he pulled out a knife and cut cleanly through the ropes that bound his young aide. Alex let out a cry of relief and slowly brought his arms out beside him, letting out a low cry when the left one clicked back into place.
“Sir…”
“Shh, shh. None of that.” George steadied the young man with gentle hands and gazed down at him with a concerned face. “Can you walk?” He whispered.
“Yeah, yeah. Yes.” Alex bit his lip and forced one foot forward then fell straight to the ground. Washington barely caught his arm and dragged him back up again.
“Alright.” He led him to his horse and Hamilton followed carefully with exhausted, numb legs.
“It’s cold.”
“Don’t worry, son. We will warm you up soon enough.”
George lifted Alex up onto the horse, and the younger man gripped for dear life but his hands were frozen to the core and much of it was guesswork. Washington sat behind him, and pulling a protective arm around the boy, signalled for the horse to race back down through the trees. Everything had happened so quickly.
“Sir- how?” Alex mumbled.
“We intercepted the British. You got very lucky, Hamilton. They had to evacuate almost as soon as they found you. They are never too far away. Don’t you worry about them. I’d never let them get you.”
Alex wanted to say ‘ but they did get me.’ But held his tongue. Even in his semi-delirious state, he knew better than to back chat the only man who seemed to look out for him.
“Sir…thanks for coming. I'm sorry I got caught.”
If only Alexander could know how much that broke Washington’s heart.
“Don’t you apologise. You did nothing wrong. Come on, let’s get you home.”
“Mmkay.” Alex said, his head dropping to his chest.
“And I am so glad I found you.” George added, but the young man was already fast asleep after a horrible day. Just in time, Washington thought. Just in time.