dcbutinamrev · 3 years ago
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In Spite of the Schuyler's Black Eyes
A little ficlet I wrote this morning instead of working on Ch. 40 for Yrs Forever, inspired by Duty and Inclination from Ch. 22, day 46 I believe, where Hamilton meets Eliza at the ball and Hamilton gets emotional while describing Laurens and talking about him to Eliza because he misses his boyfriend who fights in the South to protect his home and Hamilton has little hours of sleep a night due to all the needless worry over his dear Laurens's survival and saftey. And he just wants his boyfriend back-
***
LIEUTENANT COLONEL ALEXANDER Hamilton stands at the entranceway to the ballroom in Morristown, New Jersey. The sun now setting beyond the wide range of trees, the sky going from a pale blue to a faded lavender mixed with pumpkin orange, silver stars beginning to glitter beautifully like his freckles dotted over his cheeks. He stands tall, his arms clasped behind his back with his chest puffed out, his lips pressed together as he scans the ballroom, seeing his dear friends Tilghman and Meade laughly jovially as they stand near a woman wearing a lavender dress, her fan in hand as she blushes immensely, her lips pressed together as she watches with a scolding look upon her face yet her expression fond as the two men bursts out laughing. Hamilton smiles fondly before he ticks his eyes back to the center of the room, hoping to find one man. A man with honey colored hair and sky eyes, a rounded chin and angular jaw, tall frame and bright blue coat. Hamilton frowns when he doesn’t spot the man he had hoped to find.
He swallows hard as he watches other couples twirling around the dance floor, laughing and chatting as they sip their wine. Hamilton should feel cheer, yet he finds himself lacking doing so. His mind worrying needlessly over his dear Laurens who is in the south where the heart of the fight is. Tilghman and Meade had convinced Hamilton to come to this assembly, in hopes it would help ease his worries over Laurens and help him become cheer once more. But Hamilton finds it, in all honesty, not helpful at all.
Hamilton huffs out a sigh and heads over to the table to fetch himself a glass of wine, his arms clasped tightly behind his back, his head dipped down as if in shame, his eyes droop. Hamilton unclasps his arms from behind to grab a small glass and pours the pitcher of champagne into the glass, watching the bubbles sizzle as he watches the gold water rise to the brim. He sets the pitcher down and turns around to watch the couples on the floor, leaning his back against the table, one arm draped over his chest while the other clutches onto the glass. He still looks for Laurens among the floor, his eyes widening with hope but soften when his hope falters. Hamilton tips his head back and closes his eyes shut. Oh, Jack...he thinks to himself...please...come back to me…
Hamilton huffs out a breath as he brings his head back and watches the couples twirl among the dance floor. He sees himself and Laurens in the middle, when everyone has gone and it was just them, no worry or fear clawing at their chests that they have to be discreet. He sees himself in Laurens’s strong arms, his thin arms around Laurens’s neck while Laurens’s arms around Hamilton’s waist as the two sway slowly side to side, both never taking their eyes off of each other, each giving the other a fond smile. He sees Laurens leaning in to kiss him once and Hamilton happily kisses back, releasing his arms from around Laurens’s neck to cup his jaws and drag him down to Hamilton’s level. He sees Laurens pulling back, their lips grazing over the other, the tips of their noses nudging against the other as Laurens presses his forehead against Hamilton’s.
Hamilton sighs, blinking his eyes as he brings himself back to reality and turns sharply when he thinks he hears someone call his name, his heart thumping against his chest. He shakes his head when he realizes it wasn’t addressed to him and stares down into his glass.
“Hamilton?” a voice says from beside him.
Hamilton glances up to find Meade standing next to him, a concerned expression on his face as he grips his hand on his shoulder. He raises an eyebrow at Hamilton, a worried smile on his face.
“What on Earth are you doing over here?” Meade says fondly.
Hamilton sighs through his nose, turning his gaze back towards the center of the room. He shakes his head. “I feel...I feel rather...rather exhausted, Kidder.” It’s a small lie, but also the truth.
Meade purses his lips together as he cocks his head to one shoulder. “Are you feeling ill?”
Hamilton shakes his head as he slowly sips his wine, swallowing the gulp and the lump of tears down his throat at the same time. “No,” he says as he lowers his glass. “Just...drained…”
“Alex,” Meade says, his voice quiet so only Hamilton could hear. This catches Hamilton’s eyes as he fully gives Meade his full attention. “I can tell when you lie. As your friend, I can also tell when you are upset and when something's on your mind.”
Hamilton doesn’t reply, just stares into Meade’s deep brown eyes. He can see himself in his pupils. Meade forces a small smile to appear over his face.
“What is the matter?” Meade says. “I do worry about you...as a friend should…”
Hamilton smiles softly as he turns his eyes back towards the center of the room, still searching for Laurens, his lips pressed together. His smile soon fades as he recalls Brandywine, Laurens running into the enemy fire, the fog surrounding them, remembering the disoriented soldiers, remembering Laurens screaming on the gurney in the medical tent as the surgeon tries to pull the bullet out of Laurens’s shoulder. Laurens unconscious for many hours.
“Laurens…” is all Hamilton says.
Meade sighs heavily, turning to lean his back against the table and crosses his arms over his chest and mirrors Hamilton’s position beside him. Meade sneaks a glance towards his dear friend before back towards the center of the ballroom, smiling fondly when he sees Tilghman spinning a lady around with their arms lifted over their heads. He frowns as he glances over to Hamilton again.
“That’s why we’re here, Alexander,” Meade says, gripping Hamilton’s shoulder again. “We brought you here to help ease your anxieties. We understand your fear for Laurens’s survival and safety, we all fear for him, but we brought you here for that reason.”
Hamilton lets out a shaky breath as he tries to school his features and keep himself calm and collected. “It’s been days, Kidder.” His voice squeaks and he grimaces but continues nonetheless. He swallows, licking his lips, dry from lack of kisses. “Nearly a month. If not already.”
“We understand you miss him, Alexander,” Meade says. “We all do. We know how close you two are and we can feel the shift of the atmosphere whenever you enter the room at the headquarters. We can feel the tension you feel, feel the worries and anxieties about Laurens you may have. But he’ll come back. I know he will.”
Hamilton shakes his head doubtedly and shoots Meade a hard glare. Meade grimaces under Hamilton’s tense gaze. “You don’t know that. You know how he is.”
“Yes,” Meade agrees, nodding. “All men wish for glory on the field.”
Hamilton shakes his head. “It’s not that. It’s just...he’d go out there as if...as if he’d never wanted to come back.” Come back to me, Hamilton adds silently.
Meade shakes his head disaggreingly. “You know that not be true…”
“I fear for his life, Kidder,” Hamilton snaps suddenly, unable to control his anger any longer.
“Yes, we know of this, Hamilton,” Meade tries.
“No, you do not!” Hamilton suddenly shouts, his voice a tad louder than the music itself. A few couples standing nearby stop their conversation entirely to stare at them. Hamilton swallows and his freckled cheeks flushes with embarrassment as he leans close to Meade’s face and lowers his voice. “You do not understand. You do not know Laurens as I do. You do not understand his true intentions for his actions.”
Meade presses his lips firmly together as he keeps his eyes levelled with Hamilton’s, his jaw clenched as he schools his features, narrowing his eyes. “Do not make assumptions of me, sir. I know Laurens very well myself. We are friends, need I remind you? I love Laurens like a brother and he holds very dear to my heart as well as you and I also worry over his safety and life and know how reckless he can be. Tench and I had brought you here to take your mind off of him. To breathe.”
Silence now falls between them.
“So please,” Meade continues, his voice harsh and cold through his clenched teeth, punctuating each syllable. “Do enjoy yourself while you are given the time available to do so. And have fun. Relax. Breathe, Alexander.”
Hamilton clenches his jaw as he watches Meade spin off around his heel angrily, seeing his hands clench at his sides as he stomps his way over towards a trio at the end of the room, his back unusually straight, his dark brown hair pulled back into a tight braid secured with a dark blue ribbon, the tails of his blue Continental coat flaps against the back of his thighs, the heels of his black boots clicking against the tiled floor.
Hamilton presses his lips together firmly and sighs heavily through his nose, leaning against the table once more to pinch the bridge of his nose annoyingly and lets his hand slide down his face, his skin dragging along with it. Hamilton huffs out a breath and glances out towards the entranceway where he stood not a moment ago. Hamilton doesn’t know how long it’s been when he hears a soft, feminine voice call his name. “Alexander Hamilton…”
Hamilton stiffens and he smiles thinly to himself as he recognizes that voice. He turns around to find a woman before him, shorter than him by height. He feels triumphant in this as he’s finally taller than someone for once. The woman before him smiles warmly, friendly. Her dark brown hair done up in a high bun, a few curls dangling over her ears and some resting on the back of her neck. Her gown pink with a floral pattern and a light pink petticoat. Hamilton smiles wide.
“Catherine Livingston,” he breathes, feeling his anxieties instantly washing away. He pauses, staring down at her brown eyes, brown to match her hair. He smiles genuinely. “My apologies, Kitty.”
“Don’t think I can’t tell who you are, despite the months of separation between us, sir,” Kitty says, a grin on her face as she ticks her eyes up to Hamilton’s powdered hair down to his frame and back to his eyes. She jabs his chest with her fan. “Not even with that stunning red of yours.”
He chuckles and bows gentlemanly, bringing her hand up to his lips in greeting. “It is wonderful to see you again, Kitty.”
Hamilton had lived with Miss Catherin Livingston for the remaining years of his schooling before the war and after the hurricane in St. Croix. The two have even exchanged romantic letters to one another and in shorter terms, Kitty was basically Hamilton’s first ever crush.
“You as well,” Kitty agrees. She nods her head in approval. “You’ve grown.”
Hamilton smiles nonetheless. “That I did. And so did you, a fine woman you’ve become.”
Kitty giggles, rolling her eyes. “You still have a way with words do you not?”
“That I do,” Hamilton agrees with a small nod.
“How do you fare? Has the army life been treating you well? Has Morristown been pleasing to you?” Kitty wonders with an arched eyebrow. She glances at the green riband across his chest and grins. “I see you’re now an aide-de-camp to His Excellency General Washington.”
Hamilton smiles, his chest filling with pride and he nods. “Aye, that I am. And to answer your questions, Miss Livingston, yes they have been.”
“Good. I am very glad to hear that.”
Silence.
“Oh!” Kitty suddenly gasps, clutching onto Hamilton’s arm tightly. “There’s a fellow lady here whom you might have met before during your stay in Albany two years past!”
The corners of Hamilton’s lips quirk up. “You remember that?”
Kitty nods sharply. “That I do. She should be over here….Ah! There she is!”
Before Hamilton could utter a word or could protest, Kitty drags him across the floor, weavering through a trio of men to a woman, who’s frame is undoubtedly female but with less fragility of most women, her hair powdered as well, a few curls draping over her shoulders. Hamilton arches an eyebrow before glancing over at Kitty. She merely grins and taps the woman’s shoulder, who yelps with surprise and spins around on her heel to face them. She lets out a breath of relief when she recognizes Kitty.
“Miss Livingston,” the woman puffs with relief, her tense shoulders slumping. “Thank goodness it’s only you.”
Kitty smiles warmly. “Elizabeth,” she begins, “I believe you two have already met in Albany two years past, but allow me to reintroduce. Alexander Hamilton, Elizabeth Schuyler.”
Kitty steps aside as Hamilton bows gentlemanly and grabs hold of her delicate hand in his and brings it up to his lips, one arm behind his back. “Miss Schuyler. It is an honor to see you again.”
“In better conditions, I hope,” Miss Schuyler says.
Hamilton glances up and he swears he can feel his heart stop. The most striking feature of her, besides her tall, powdered hair and angular face and curvy frame, is her eyes. They must be a deep brown--so deep one would mistake it as black. If he could, Hamilton would gaze into her eyes throughout the entirety of the evening, trying to find where it might end, what she sees. He clears his throat instead, blinks himself back to reality and stands straighter with a curt nod.
“Yes,” Hamilton agrees. “In far better conditions.”
“Miss Schuyler has an interest in politics such as yourself and I,” Kitty interrupts, causing both of them to catch her eye and turn towards her. Miss Schuyler blushes, her pale cheeks suddenly turning to a shade of pink as she presses her lips together firmly. Kitty glances at her. “I’d think you’d find Mr. Hamilton’s company quite enjoyable, Eliza.”
“Will I?” Miss Schuyler asks challengingly.
“Oh, yes!” Kitty says. “Alexander has a lot of wit in him. This man and his way with words.” Hamilton feels his cheeks become red as his hair and jabs his elbow into his friend’s ribs, clearing his throat with a pursed smile . Both Miss Schuyler and Kitty giggle. Hamilton couldn’t help but chuckle himself.
“I shall leave you two be,” Kitty says, followed by a wink at Hamilton before running off to the other side of the room.
Hamilton stares after her, standing stiff and awkward, his cheeks still warm with his lips pressed tightly together. He turns to face the ballroom, still looking for his Laurens, hoping Laurens is among the crowd, dancing before coming over to perhaps surprise him instead of at war in the South and away from the comfort of familiar arms and lips and of home.
“Are you alright, Colonel Hamilton?” Miss Schuyler asks, her brows furrowing together as she notices his unease and anxieties. Hamilton yelps before spinning around on his heel to fully face her. He stares at her eyes, a deep black, like a black hole, not close at all to those beautiful sky blue ones in which he had fallen in love with in the first place. Hamilton stands unusually still and stiff, his arms clasped tightly behind his back. Miss Schuyler inclines her head to meet his eyes.
“You’re rather...tense…” she says, cocking her head to one shoulder. “You look a little...distressed. Is something amiss?”
Hamilton puffs out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and glances out towards the ballroom where he watches couples twirl and dip and laugh, seeing himself and Laurens in that dark room, dancing themselves with the music in the distance.
Miss Schuyler follows his distressed gaze and grins before turning back to him. “Perhaps you’d like a dance?”
Hamilton nods before he turns back to her. “I would...yes…” He frowns. “But it’s not that…”
“Then...what is it…?” Miss Schuyler wonders cautiously.
Hamilton swallows, clenching and unclenching his fists. “I...A fellow aide-de-camp, a...a rather close friend of mine...is absent…”
Miss Schuyler takes this new information the wrong way as her face falters. “Oh...I’m...I’m so sorry--”
Hamilton quickly shakes his head, waving his hands as he doesn’t need to think like that. “No, no, no, no, Miss. No. He isn’t...he’s not…” He chokes on the word, blinking his eyes. “He’s...he’s not dead.”
Her face relaxes. “Then...what is it? I apologize for my misunderstanding--”
“No, don’t be,” Hamilton insists, taking her hands in his. He lets out a shaking breath, staring at their clasped hands. “He’s...he’s in the war…”
“In the South?” she suggests.
He nods. “Yes. The South...South Carolina, to be exact.
She nods in understanding. “Ah. What’s his name?”
“Jack,” Hamilton blurts out suddenly. He clears his throat. “I mean...John. Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens is his name.”
“Do you think it’d be better for you to...talk about your friend?” Miss Schuyler offers.
Hamilton nods and lets her drag him across the floor to a nearby table. She and Hamilton sit down together almost at once.
“Tell me about...this...Laurens? He seems rather the gentleman just by the sound of his name coming off of your lips.”
Hamilton smiles softly and nods as he stares at his thumb brushing against his own knuckles, imagining his thumb as Laurens’s. “He is. He’s quite the gentleman.”
Miss Schuyler smiles with pursed lips. “Tell me about him, then.”
“Well...he...he has honey hair…” Hamilton begins, scoffing out a laugh as he remembers the first time seeing Laurens’s true hair color, and not powdered when they first met. “A rich blonde. Beautiful...like a golden halo. He has...he has these breathtaking blue eyes. Blue as the sky.” A pause. Hamilton furrows his brows. “You know, Miss Schuyler, I...I’ve just now come to the realization that Laurens does remind me of the sky. With that blonde hair as the sun as his eyes as the sky itself.”
“Please, call me Eliza, dear,” Miss Schuyler--Eliza--says. She reaches out from across the table to grab his hand and pats it comfortingly and nods with agreement. “He does seem rather handsome by your description.”
Hamilton shakes his head. “That’s not all Miss Schuyler--I mean, Eliza. He’s...he’s tall. Taller than you and I combine, perhaps. Handsome, with a sharp jaw and muscular arms...what a soldier should be like.”
“And how does he and his journey South affect you?” Eliza wonders.
Hamilton frowns. “Jack---I mean, John---he can...he has…he’s rather reckless when it comes
to the field. He’s known for his bravery, yes, and his desire for…” Hamilton swallows.
“For?” Eliza prompts, an eyebrow raised.
“For…” Hamilton shakes his head. “I need not think about this. I come here to take my mind off of him...not...to worry over him…for his reckless behaviors...who knows?” He suddenly laughs bitterly. “He could already be shot in the shoulder again!”
“Mr. Hamilton…?” Eliza says cautiously, furrowing her brows as she leans away, Hamilton still laughing like all of this is a dream and a joke.
Hamilton’s laughter dies into a bitter cackle, a scowl forming on his face as he stares past Eliza’s shoulders and clenches his fists on the table. “He leaves me here like I’m some China doll.” Another shrill laugh. “He leaves me here like I’m some woman. Something fragile and needed protection! I am a soldier of the Continental Army, goddammit!” He suddenly slams his fist on the table hard, making the silverware clatter and some conversation fall into soft whispers around them as he can feel their eyes staring into the back of his head. “I’m not some fragile woman needing protection! I am capable of both pen and sword!”
Eliza glances around her, flashing reassuring smiles to the worried and concerned guests around them before standing up from her chair and clutching onto Hamilton’s arm as Hamilton breathes sharply in and out through his nose, trying to control his anger and temper as she leads him out of the room. Hamilton puts his hand over his eyes and leans against the wall, his body sagging. Eliza rushes over, resting her hand on his bicep and squeezing it as she helps him stand upright once more.
Hamilton sniffs as he bites his lower lip hard, hard enough for it to bleed, in hopes it would help stifle back a choked sob. Unfortunately, it doesn’t.
“Shh, shh,” Eliza soothes, rubbing her hand up and down Hamilton’s shaking arm, her other hand on his back. “Shh, shh, calm. Calm.”
“My...My apologies, Miss Schuyler---I mean, Eliza---I...I’m not usually like this…” Hamilton chokes, unshed tears glittering his eyes. He shakes his head as he stares back out into the ballroom.
Eliza smiles kindly, stepping close to him and hooking her smaller arm through his, catching Hamilton’s eye. Eliza lifts her hand and cups Hamilton’s freckled, tear-stained cheek, wiping away the tear slipping down his cheek with the pad of her thumb. He sniffs a couple of times, sucking in huge gulps of air and trying to control himself but only lets out another choked sob, more tears escaping.
“Shh...shh,” Eliza says, wrapping her arms around him and dragging him down to her level so he could rest his forehead on her shoulder. “It’s alright, my dear. It’s alright. Just let it out. Let it out. You have every right to feel this way, Mr. Hamilton.”
“I just...I just can’t lose another person in my life,” Hamilton chokes. “I’ve lost too many. I can’t lose him too...”
“Shh,” Eliza says, stroking his powdered hair and rubbing her hand in small circles on his back before sliding her hand up and down. “Enough. I understand. You miss him dearly and there’s no shame or wrong in feeling like this. This is normal.”
“I’m scared…” Hamilton whimpers, tilting his head so his cheek is upon her shoulder now. He sniffs, his arms around the small of her back tightly. “I’m scared for him...I can’t…”
“Shh…”
“He hasn’t written to me…” Hamilton whimpers, blinking his eyes fast. “Not yet...anyways...and...it’s been days...a month since he left us, left me, and...still no word from him...and I can only fear…”
Eliza steps back so Hamitlon could gaze into her stunning dark eyes and sniffs, followed by a hiccup. She smiles softly, tucking a loose red curl that had escaped his powdered hair behind his ear.
“He’s always with you, Mr. Hamilton,” Eliza says. She points to his chest where his heart is. “No matter where he is in the South, he’s always with you. Right here.”
Hamilton glances at his chest before back up at Eliza and sniffs, feeling himself starting to calm.
He nods. “You’re right. My apologies, Eliza. I’ve just been…”
“Shh...no need to explain yourself, Mr. Hamilton--”
“Please, call me Alexander,” Hamilton says. “Or...Alex, if you will.” Eliza nods. “Alex...I like the sound of that.”
Hamilton sniffs once again before glancing towards the ballroom and then back towards Eliza and extends his hand out towards her. “Would you do me the honor, Miss Schuyler?”
She smiles wide with thin lips and rests her hand in his, letting Hamilton lead the way.
“You may.”
Hamilton finds he likes Miss Schuyler very much.
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