Requested by Lunaagnerhuelgas

-

It was supposed to be a simple raid.

Which it was.

But then, Alexander had managed to get himself kidnapped by red coats.

They had been at the Schuylkill River, ready to destroy the flour warehouse of the red coats.

They had ended up getting ambushed.

Alexander’s horse had gotten shot, and the others had retreated.

Alexander knew he had no chance against a dozen red coats. If he had even tried to shoot, he would’ve been shot to oblivion.

“Come with us,” one of the red coats grunted, roughly grabbing Alexander’s arm and yanking him toward them.

-

And now, Alexander sat in a dingy cell. His hands were chained to the wall.

"Ready?" a red coat questioned, a grim smirk on his lips.

"For what?" Alexander demanded.

The red coat tutted.

"Tone, Hamilton. And you'll see."

Another guard stepped into the room, carrying a tray of blades and knives.

Alexander froze.

"Scared?" the red coat mocked. "Tell us Washington's plans and you'll leave unscathed."

"Never," Alexander hissed.

He was met with a slap.

The red coat grabbed a knife, approaching him.

"Move and it'll hurt more," he chuckled.

He slowly began dragging the knife along his arm, cutting deep into the flesh. Alexander screamed, blood gushing down his arm. The red coat kept trailing along his arm, to his chest, then to his other arm.

His shirt was crimson with blood, puddling on the ground beneath him.

"Good enough for today," the red coat smiled.

-

"Sir, we are back from our mission," Henry Lee stepped into the general's tent.

"Oh, good. How did it go?" Washington asked, not looking up from his paperwork.

"We were ambushed. Alexander Hamilton got captured by red coats," Lee admitted hesitantly.

Washington dropped his quill, looking up at Lee.

"What?"

"Alexander Hamilton was captured by red coats."

-

Day two only held more torture for Alexander.

"Here. Write a letter to Washington, saying you're alright. We don't want them to make any plans for your escape, now, do we?" the man chuckled.

Alexander took the parchment, inkpot and quill with shaking hands.

"I've heard you're good at writing. Let's see, then."

-

"What do you mean he's been captured?" John demanded.

"I do not know much," Washington admitted.

"Mon general, we have to do something to get him back!" Lafayette exclaimed.

"Sir, there's a letter for you," a soldier interrupted.

"Who is it from?" Washington asked skeptically.

"Colonel Hamilton."

Washington froze. He numbly grabbed the letter.

"Dismissed."

The soldier left.

Washington opened the letter, John and Lafayette watching in anticipation. He read the letter aloud.

'Sir,

I am doing well. They have not treated me badly, I am getting decent food and water.

Despite the conditions of my current stay, I am well. We have time.

Sincerely,

A. Ham.'

"That's good," John smiled in relief.

And it would've been if not for the back of the letter.

'HELP' scrawled in blood.

"Oh, fuck," John swore.

"We have to get him!" Lafayette said in determination.

"We will. We can not act rash. We need to craft ourselves a plan."

-

Day three went as good as the other days.

This time, however, they poured something Alexander guessed to be lemon juice in his wounds. That hurt much worse, what with the depth and length of the wounds.

However, it was good, in the sense that the wound wouldn't be infected.

Alexander felt weak. They had not fed him this entire time, only the occasional cup of water.

He laid down in his cell, preserving his energy.

-

The guard slept in the same room as him. They didn't want him to escape; they were losing and capturing him had been the last attempt they had to bait the general.

Alexander knew that Washington would try to save him. Or at least a part of him hoped he did.

He just hoped it wouldn't cost them anything.

-

"Raid the place," Washington commanded.

John and Lafayette smirked.

-

Alexander waited until night time. He reached and grabbed a knife off the tray of weapons, quietly trying to break the lock, or unlock it. Whichever happened first.

Once he was out, he barely glanced at the red coat before putting the knife through his throat.

And he ran free.

-

"Alexander?" John asked incredulously.

"I'm out- I made it out-" Alexander wheezed.

Then he promptly collapsed.

-

John and Lafayette carried him to the infirmary tent.

"How is he?" Washington demanded.

"He's doing alright. He had some stabbed over wounds - he was tortured," Lafayette murmured.

It was pure devastation and helplessness.

"We can talk to him once he wakes up."

-

Alexander woke up, looking around for the red coat holding a knife, but he found none. Instead, he was in a familiar infirmary tent.

"Alex?"

"General Washington?" Alexander aske hopefully.

"It's me," a small smile tugged on the general's lips. "How are you, son?"

"Tired. Everything hurts."

Washington sighed.

"I am sorry, my boy."

"For what?"

"For failing to protect you."

They sat in silence for a minute.

"You didn't. I'm here, aren't I?"

Washington smiled.

Things would be alright eventually.