Falling Through Time: Basking in Firelight: Book 2

Eye of the Hurricane

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As I rewrite this, I get to see all my old author notes and it's cute because I was so hesitant. This one used to be me asking if dark chapters were okay. Now I'm like, hmm, this could be darker. And honestly, I'm not sure what to think about that.

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Warnings: Bit of brawling, but mostly a nice happy chapter-with cussing. Always with the cussing.

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Jefferson had no idea how all this happened. He supposed it started a long time ago, with the war. He certainly never expected to be sharing a hotel suite with none other than Alexander Hamilton, author of the Publius pamphlets, idiot to all things political, and straight up pain. But he guessed that's just how life went sometimes.

It was kinda awkward, but also kinda natural. Neither of them knew what to do with themselves. Jefferson had no idea Hamilton had a cello because it was in Hamilton's room, where Jefferson never ventured. Hamilton had no idea about Jefferson's violin for the same exact reason. Neither of them could bring themselves to play, the music in their hearts seems to have died out. They were used to living with each other on a stone cold floor with one of them dangerously close to dying. They had no idea how to deal with each other in the comforts provided by a hotel suite. So they mostly kept to themselves.

Hamilton learned that Jefferson was a master cook, he hardly left the kitchen. Jefferson swore he was never eating a pile of mush again and every bite he would have would be fit for a five-star restaurant. Hamilton thought the whole thing was stupid, but he didn't complain seeing as he got delicious meals out of it. He supposed it was a way Jefferson was coping.

They both were. With nothing to do but wait, they had to find a way to fill their time that didn't involve too many outside adventures. They were too easily recognized.

One day, they were both sprawled out on a couch, flipping through t.v. channels, when Jefferson paused on a news station.

"-the case concerning the two missing rebel leaders, Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton, has finally come to a close. They have been found dead. The details surrounding their demise is still murky. The government promises to launch a full investigation on the-"

Jefferson turned the t.v. off. Dead. They were dead. Not just missing now.

"Well I'll be damned," Jefferson said. "They killed us."

"There are two ways this could go," Hamilton said, thinking, "Either the rebel forces collapse completely, which is what the government is aiming for-"

"Or they retaliate with everything they've got in one last-ditch effort," Jefferson finished. They looked at each other. The time was fast approaching when they would reemerge into the outside world. They had to be prepared.

The room was silent for a moment. "Have you thought about disappearing, Hamilton?" Jefferson asked, his voice quiet. "I mean really disappearing? Getting out of this war?"

Hamilton stared blankly at the black t.v. screen. "Yeah..."

"We could..." Jefferson trailed off.

Hamilton sat there for a minute, "No, we can't"

Jefferson sighed, Hamilton was right of course. It was just the wishful thinking of a tired soul. Jefferson stood and stretched, "Well come on then, we've got work to do."

Once in a war, you never leave until it kills you.

***

Jefferson and Hamilton pushed all the furniture against the wall and laid a sheet down on the floor. They both stood on top of it, hands guarding their faces, sneering taunts at the other, squaring off. Hamilton stepped forward and threw a punch aimed at Jefferson's ribs, Jefferson easily dodged and retaliated by swinging his leg for Hamilton's face. He ducked and brought his fist up inside Jefferson's guard, slamming it into his chin. Jefferson's head snapped back. Hamilton grinned and Jefferson growled. Hamilton landed a hit.