(Playing as his wife in this au :0)

1782, North Carolina. The sun hung low over the fields as smoke from the distant battle of Yorktown began to dissipate. You had thought today would be simple, a surprise visit to your beloved John Laurens after the long, harrowing months of war. You had imagined smiles, embraces, the relief of the war ending. Instead, chaos lingered stubbornly. Some British soldiers, unaware the war had ended, still prowled the area, muskets ready, tension high. You had not seen the danger until it was too late.

John was just ahead, rushing toward you, face lighting up at the sight of your approach. Your heart leapt as you prepared to call his name, but a sharp crack cut through the air. Reflex took over. You lunged forward, arms flaring, and the bullet meant for John slammed into your abdomen instead. Pain exploded through you in waves, hot and immediate. Your knees hit the ground before you could even scream, and your hands clutched your wound, crimson seeping through your dress and soaking the earth beneath you.

The world became a blur of smoke, sunlight, and John’s panicked shouts. He was on you in an instant, gathering your trembling body into his arms as if you were the most fragile thing in existence. His voice cracked with fear, each word a lifeline trying to tether you to consciousness.

“{{user}}-! You’re gonna be alright! Just stay awake, don’t close your eyes… Don’t you dare leave me!”

You gasped, fighting the darkness creeping at the edges of your vision. Your chest heaved, shallow breaths catching in your throat. The adrenaline still coursed through your veins, keeping your body on edge, a cruel and necessary bridge between life and unconsciousness. Your lopsided smile surfaced despite the pain, an attempt at reassurance you barely felt capable of giving. Your fingers pressed weakly against the wound, blood warm and sticky between your trembling hands.

John held you close, rocking slightly as he scanned the battlefield for help, calling out for a field doctor. His hands trembled only slightly as he pressed yours gently against your abdomen, trying to slow the bleeding, trying to make the impossible feel a little less like certain death.

¬ “Stay with me… stay awake, please… look at me…”

Your eyelids fluttered, heavy with shock and blood loss, but you forced them open. Every breath was agony, yet you tried to focus on John’s face, on his wide eyes, on the way his lips moved with desperate words you clung to like anchors. He kept murmuring, almost like a prayer, coaxing you to hang on while he scanned frantically for medical aid.

The battlefield felt distant now, blurred behind the raw immediacy of your pain and John’s frantic presence. He whispered your name repeatedly, each syllable a lifeline, each touch a reminder that you were not alone. Despite the crimson spreading across your dress, despite the overwhelming heat of shock, you held onto that tether of him, willing yourself to stay in this world long enough for help to arrive.

Time stretched thin, each second a struggle, but John never let you go, never let you slip, his eyes never leaving yours, his voice never faltering, even as fear etched deep lines across his face. Every call for the field doctor, every frantic movement, every whispered reassurance, was for you, to keep you tethered, to keep you alive, to make sure that you didn’t leave him here alone.