Zero Two Three One | John Laurens X Reader [Hamilton]

LXXXVIII: Eight Day Process

❝Bear patiently with a rival.❞
—Ovid

We got here on the twenty-sixth. Where is here? Well, I'm not authorized to say. If someone came here, they probably wouldn't be able to guess. There are no clues written in the thick layer of footprint-ridden snow. There are no whispers among the German residents of the small town. There's not even a proper road to the elaborate military conference base about a hundred kilometers from the town.

Frankly, I wouldn't know this place existed either if German soldiers didn't take us there the first morning.

My posse came here with the Canadian and British representatives, and I quickly discovered that Burr was amongst the British representatives. 

I don't know who's fucking grand idea it was to recruit that bastard, but if I had to guess, Charles made a few suggestions here and there.

It doesn't matter. He hardly ever looked at Alexander or me. He sticks with his fellow representatives.

And we stick with ours. That is, Alexander and I stick with Washington and two other men by the name of Gates and Knox.

The past seven days have been the same routine-wise. Today proves that nothing will change.

Alexander and I wake up in our temporary residence early. I revisited my reoccurring dream, the beach that once existed nothing but a snowy terrain. I didn't tell Alexander of it.

The sun had hardly risen. We sat in the cold room for quite some time, neither moving an inch as though the frozen air had stiffened our limbs. Only when grey light began to creep from between the curtains did our lungs thaw.

"Today," Alexander whispered.

"Today," I replied.

Today indeed.

January 2, 2061.

We get ready for the day. Shower. Brush our teeth. Get dressed in formal attire, matching one another. We'd normally manage down a light breakfast, but neither of us has an appetite this morning. This morning.

Around eight o'clock, a German soldier knocks on the door and asks us to get into the black, unmarked vehicle so we may be transported to the base. We go without a word.

The drive is silent. All the while, Alexander and I pour over today's discussion schedule, examining who we will be talking to, what rooms we will be in, what times we will transfer buildings, and when we will be apart.

All this information is absolutely crucial for what we're planning, and halfway through the drive, he and I whisper (in Russian) the plan. We go over it several times until we can recite it as easily as we can recite the alphabet.

Once we arrive at the base, we're swiftly escorted to one of the three conference buildings. This is the main one; the two smaller ones would take a three-minute walk to get to (they are rightfully far).

The base is hidden very well. That meaning, the buildings are in the clearing of a large forest. Looking left to right, there is nothing but dead trees and dirty snow to look at.

It's a cold morning. The sky is grey. It smells like it will snow.

I give Alexander a look. He reads my eyes and nods. Snow will be good for our mission.