The Head Tie - Hamilton

The End Of The Road - Chapter Five

AN: Ok tbh this was gonna be a song chapter but I decided against it bc I didn't think the song worked in context of the plot of this. Having said that, things are about to get a whole lot angstier. Remember, history doesn't work like this. If you want to know about the actual lives of these characters do actual research. Ok, have fun.

He didn't know what he was doing, he just knew he couldn't take it anymore.

He left notes, too, and he knew that Hamilton wouldn't open it. At least he thought he wouldn't...Not in time, anyway. He was here, and he didn't know why. He was here, and he knew exactly why. He stood with shaking hands in the middle of the field. It was in full-bloom with white flowers. Lafayette liked them.

He'd always said they looked innocent. 

This was the place they'd first kissed. 

He looked at the pistol in his hands with a reverence and wondered how he got here. How things got to such an intensity that he was here, about to... He didn't want to think about it. Hercules was distraught in the worst of ways because he could barely react to the world around him. It was terrifying. It was terrifying how easy it was for him to forget why he continued. 

He was unhappy with his job. He was unhappy with his life. He was unhappy with his friends, or lack thereof, and he was unhappy in general. He knew he couldn't go on any longer, and so he came here. He was afraid of what came next, but he knew this wasn't enough for him. This was his time. 

When he was writing his final letters, he finally understood why Alexander wrote like he was running out of time. Or maybe it was because Hercules knew he actually was running out of time. It didn't matter.

He was here and he was ready. Or at least, he thought he was ready.

He had to be ready.

Mulligan glanced at the side warily as he heard something rushing through the fields towards him, and saw the exhausted face of Alexander Hamilton charging over the hills at him, with sweat dripping down his forehead. His suit wasn't made for running. He slowed as he reached his friend.

"What are you doing here, Alexander?" Hercules asked tiredly, looking completely exhausted as he looked at his friend. Alex swore his heart broke, because he'd never seen a man look so broken in all of his days. "I-I told you I'd read your letters." He panted out, standing close to him. The other looked at him with an empty smile. 

"It's nice of you to keep your promise. I told you not to try and stop me." He said quietly, and fondly, with an unfamiliar look on his face. Hamilton had never seen an expression even close to that on his friend's face before.  The smaller man took a deep breath before replying. "You can't do this, Hercules. It's not what Lafayette would want."

"I heard you voted against sending help to France when he was fighting. You have no idea what Lafayette would want. Stay out of it, Hamilton." He said it blankly and coldly. Alexander shivered despite the fact it was mid-May. He looked at the floor guiltily. "I didn't know."

"I don't care."

"I can't lose someone else like this. Please, Herc. I can't." The man begged. He sounded tearful. Mulligan thought it was ironic how Alexander only ever lost it and cried around the four in their group, and nobody else. He wondered if he'd ever cried in front of his wife before. He thought he probably would now, anyway.

"It's not your business."

"Come back to town, Herc. Go home." Hamilton pleaded harder, but Hercules paid no mind. He looked his friend in the eye icily and without a scrap of uncertainty in his voice. "If you don't turn around and go home, what you see won't be pretty. 30 seconds, Alexander." He placed the gun to his head and faced away from his friend.