Hamilton One Shots

Halfway

Eliza hadn't ever experienced love until she encountered him. Not encountered, more like observed from a distance. Every effort she made to introduce herself or talk to the charming man, her heart would burst into flames of nothing, and she'd wonder what the point in even trying was.

Sisters telling her to make a move, and brothers admitting he'd leave soon enough, it came to her that time was running out. She had wasted hours on hours of thinking of the way to attract his attention in a way that no other female could. It was time to make her move.

Clutching the folder of writings he dropped in the cafe the week prior, Eliza poised herself outside of the nearby carnival in the town. He must have felt nothing sentimental towards his words, for he hadn't thought to even come back to the cafe to retrieve it. So she intended to return it to him.

"You've got nothing to lose," she reminded herself on the late afternoon the plan was to be done. She had covered her hair in a cloth, dressed in clothing that sheltered her from any suspicion, and finished the look with sunglasses. Sticking out in a crowd may have been her usual routine, but today it wasn't.

Eliza forced herself to focus on the task at hand, and her breathing slowed down the second he exited the carousel from a day's work. The sun reflected in his eyes, and he barely flinched at the blazing temperature as his feet guided him swiftly over to his bicycle.

She inhaled and picked up the payphone beside her, watching through her sunglasses his every movement. Alexander stopped at his bicycle, only to listen to a woman. "Mister! It's for you!" Fairly impatient, he took the phone from the lady reluctantly and answered the call.

"Follow the blue arrows, Mr. Hamilton," her higher pitched voice said into the receiver, giving him little to no time to react. Huh? His eyes clouded over with confusion, and all he could do was answer the command. But to his surprise, there appeared a blue drawn arrow at his feet. Unusual, he thought.

Children were chasing the pigeons, causing them to fly up into the air, and that exposed more blue arrows heading towards a staircase in the distance. Alexander set the telephone down and began to stroll along the path. He knew someone was looking for him, watching for him, and it didn't bother the man much.

He wasn't one for looking closer, for his eyes didn't look far enough to see the woman by another phone booth standing alarmingly still.

Whoever this is knows how to play games well, he thought again, as he ascended the stairwell and followed another array of colored arrows. Pigeons flocked one which was made of seeds, and the other sent him up around a bend and through a secret pathway. He couldn't wrap his mind around how clever the whole idea truly was.

The end of the staircase lead him to a statue, one of those he'd been by several times. At some point on a school trip, he would have known the name of that founder, but his thought process could only think of the possible reward for completing this. He eagerly charged up another set of stairs to where the statue pointed up.

Not as if it surprised him, the finger had been pointing to a viewing glass for tourists. He chuckled and silently wondered who wanted to rid him of his change to while they were at the games. Alexander shoved his hand into his back pocket and pulled out a quarter.

Through the focused glass, he spotted the lady at his bicycle, stairwells away from him. She captured his attention by waving the package of writings and then placed it on the bike. The features that he only guessed could be beautiful were covered by sunglasses and a cloth.

Alexander spent his time complimenting her from a distance, and almost too much, as she suddenly hurried off. "Hey," he shouted as his fury grew for her getting away again. She kept running from his touch, and though the game was enjoyable, he wanted to unmask her.

The staircases seemed much more demanding on his body on the way down. Alexander finally made his dash to his bicycle where the writings remained untouched. Breathing heavily as he examined each and every one, the phone behind him rang once more.

"I know the stranger in your letters," the voice said softly, and he pressed the phone harder against his ear to hear the woman better. "He's a ghost, but an individual. You write to him to make yourself feel worthwhile, but the words written to women in your letters are less of a story being told." A moment of silence passed between their receivers.

Alexander chuckled, but it sounded more like a reluctant one. "Who are you?" Maybe he'd finally get the answer today. Maybe this woman, this beautiful creature, would finally run to him with open arms. Maybe his life would move on, and she would too.

"Page sixty two," she answered simply, leaving only a dial tone ringing in his ear. He flipped open to one of the blank notecards that he'd been planning a letter on, and there in colorful ink she had left him a message.

Do you want to meet me?

Clever as she was, the woman had left him a flirtatious signature. Alexander let out a little sigh of relief. He was one step closer, halfway to finding the love who kept herself hidden among his dreams. She would be there waiting at the end of the path, and that only pushed him to make the leap past the halfway mark sooner than ever before.

. . . . . . . . . .
A/N: I wrote this almost a year ago, a faint idea it was, which came true when the beautiful tale of Amélie finally made its debut on a stage. I absolutely loved the film for years, so the blessing of hearing it was on its way to Broadway filled me with happiness. It didn't have much of a run though, as tonight is it's closing. I know this isn't a request, but it felt necessary to post this tonight. I hope to write more Amélie based one shots soon!