Tag req; @dewey-decimalsystem, @lamentable-laurens
AKA WE'RE DONE WITH TEN DUEL COMMANDMENTS!! Some implied HamLee, but not much.!!
Day 7
The morning of the seventh day broke in a wash of pink and gold light, the scenery far too beautiful as what's to come. Alexander stood as the second of Laurens on the field, his hand gripped tight on the hilt of his sword. John was ten paces away from Charles Lee and so was Lee, though the difference is, John's face is calm and his eyes had locked on his target.
Meanwhile, Lee looked smaller today. His coat was buttoned wrong, and his hair was an absolute mess. He was pale, and a layer of sweat coated his forehead despite the cold morning air.
As they paced out the distance, Lee’s boots dragged in the dirt. His shoulders were hunched toward his ears. Alexander watched the General’s back and felt a sharp knot of something unpleasant. He wanted John to win, truly. He wished no ill towards his good friend. But he by no means want Lee to die. He wanted Lee to feel the pain of a bullet so he would stop talking so obnoxiously loud and like he's the only person that matters (though Alexander had now learned to tolerate and enjoyed it—), but he wanted the man to keep breathing.
"Number ten— paces, fire!" the command rang out.
Lee’s reaction was frantic. His hand shook so hard the heavy pistol wobbled. He didn't wait. He jerked the trigger in a spasm of fear. The ball hit a tree branch high above them, nowhere near John. Lee’s eyes went wide and his mouth hung open in panick. His eyes met John and terror filled the very being of Lee.
The sound of the next bullet being fired rang through the air in heavy echo. Alexander sucked in a breath that had mercilessly choked him, tempted to purse his eyes shut, but keeping it open for the sake of knowledge.
John had stayed steady. He didn't flinch when Lee’s gun went off. He raised his arm and pulled the trigger of his own.
The ball hit Lee in the side. It wasn't a fatal wound, but it was a direct hit. Laurens seemed not to aim for the general's death. Bless Laurens for that, kind angel.
The General dropped to the grass with a loud, sharp cry. He hit the ground hard, his hat falling off to show his sweating head. And at the current moment, Charles Lee does not look like a feared general who had defamed Washington's name. He was just a man bleeding into the dirt, silenced by the reality of lead opening the wound to his body.
Alexander ran forward to help clear the field, mildly noticing how Burr did the same. He this time around however, had reached Lee first.
The General was clutching his side, his fingers red with blood. He was sobbing, but not because of the pain. He was making gasping noises of relief oh his own survival. He was shaking and his breath came in short, ragged bursts because he realized he was still alive.
"You're not dying, Charles," Alexander said, voice flat. When he reached right next onto lee's side, glancing at the burst of blood that had stained Charles' coat. He pulled Lee close to his side and clumsily patched out the wound just enough to prevent the bleeding by a few.
Lee's gaze met Alexander's, yet he didn't answer. He just curled into a ball on the grass. All the arrogance was gone, replaced by the shock of nearly dying. He was just an arrogant, ignorant, snobby prick who had been given a job he couldn't handle. For Alexander, seeing the man crying in the grass was a relief. There was no mystery left. Lee was exactly what he seemed to be: a man who cared about his own skin more than any of the things he said. And Alexander doesn't loathe him for being him.
Alexander gave him one last look and a soft smile he didn't realize had formed— murmuring a, "I'm glad you're alive, Charles." — before he turned back to John, who was putting his pistol down, shoulders trembling slightly in adrenaline.
The tightness in Alexander’s chest finally went away. He reached out and took John’s hand, pulling him away from the sound of Lee’s crying and to his embrace.
"You did it Jack." He mumbled in relief against Lauren's shoulder.
"I did it, Alexander." Came from the other, voice wet and jagged from relief. Alexander felt the man's sweaty cold palm press against his back firmly.
That's until the ground split open and everything around him seemed to stop.
"Fuck."
Alexander's body fell into the crack the earth had so mercifully given him which led to the bright impending light that must've been waiting for him.
He just — albeit childlishly hopes once he's gone, another Alexander will replace him and befriend Lee.
he’d be ridiculously smug because A) lee did look as great as alex knew he would, and B)all the effort that has led to this moment finally paying off. Lee would need a bit of time to get comfortable and lose his self consciousness about it, and alex would try to be patient and helpful for that. But it’s also clear he’s basically dying to explode over the sight
