Falling Through Time: Basking in Firelight: Book 2

Clues

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Warnings: Some alcohol. Stir craziness, violence.

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"Alexander!" Jefferson yelled, "What did I say?!"

Smoke curled up from Jefferson's pistol, reflecting the moonlight. His arm still raised, aimed at where the mugger had stood a moment before. Hamilton shook his fist, slamming your fist into someone's face actually hurt.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have acted so rashly." He wasn't that sorry. "Did you just shoot that guy's pistol out of his hand?"

Jefferson shrugged, holstering his gun. "Did you really just slug that guy in the face?"

Hamilton grinned. "It's his fault."

"You're washing your hand before you touch me again," Jefferson said.

Hamilton snickered. "So what were you planning to do if I hadn't punched him?"

In response, Jefferson pulled out his wallet, stuffed a couple hundred dollars in his coat pocket, shrugged it off, and draped it over the unconscious man's body.

"What the hell, Thomas? That guy just tried to rob us at gunpoint!"

"And going by his looks, it seems as if he really needed the money. Now he can take a shower, a good night of rest, and maybe a job. He won't be going back to robbing anytime soon."

"Thomas, we're out of money, we can't afford to give it out willy-nilly."

"We've more money than him and he's surviving," Jefferson pointed out. "We'll be fine. Come on, let's go before someone decides to investigate the gunshot."

Hamilton grumbled but followed.

Hamilton and Jefferson walked around the city until dawn, both enjoying the sense of freedom after being confined to the house for so long. Jefferson more than anyone. But as the sun's pale rays greeted them, they said their farewells and went their separate ways. Hamilton heading to visit his friend, John Laurens, and Jefferson heading back to the mob.

His cane clacked against the concrete just like it did forever ago, before the second war, before he met Hamilton for the first time...again, before he was thrown in prison. All he was missing was his magenta coat and the shine of happier days before everything went to shit. It threw him violently back in time to better days. Happier.

No, not quite. Emptier. There wasn't much wrong, but he had so much missing from his life, something he'd fight through as many bloody wars to keep. Hamilton. He'd never give him up. His cane smacked smartly against the concrete. Jefferson sighed.

The sun had fully risen by the time he made it back to his house and the crowd was waiting in excitement for his usual morning appearance at the door. He stood on the other side of the street and smiled to himself, watching as the minutes ticked by, the crowd getting anxious as he didn't appear.

"Where is he?" someone asked.

"He should be here by now," another stated.

"Maybe he and Hamilton finally fucked and they're sleeping in," one said. Well okay then.

Jefferson decided it was time. He snuck right up next to the crowd, clacked his cane against the sidewalk loudly, leaning his tall, lanky body against it, crossing his arms over it, leaning forward, and drawled in his thick southern accent, "What're y'all still doin' here?" The entire crowd froze and then turned to face him all at once. It was kinda creepy actually. Jefferson grinned his most charming grin, flashing his white teeth, "Are y'all making sure the poor Marquis de Lafayette doesn't drink all my wine?" Jefferson drawled.

"When-"

"How-"

"-did he get out?" they were all mumbling. "Where's Hamilton? Is he still inside?"

"Ladies, Gentlemen, Gentlepeople," Jefferson began, "Hamilton was very clear. He called me a bigoted asshole and demanded me find a way for him to get out. Now, I being the gentleman that I am, coupled with the fact that I can't stand the guy, helped him escape."

The crowd was grumbling unhappily. "However, to make up for any distress I caused you, I'll point out that he'll probably be more inclined to be nice to me now, even if I'd rather throw macaroni in his face. Plus! Free autographs!"

***

Hamilton knocked on Laurens' door and it swung open a moment later, the doorway framing Laurens leaning against the wood, wearing no shirt whatsoever, showing off his toned body from the years of war they'd both gone through, scars proudly on display. The one that had killed him in his past life was by far the most gruesome. Just like Hamilton's and Jefferson's were. Hamilton suddenly wondered what would trigger Lauren's memories.

"Alex? I didn't expect you to be dropping by," he grinned cheekily.

Hamilton shrugged, "Yeah, it was kinda a split second decision. I thought I should come say hi. We haven't spent any time together for ages."

Laurens propped his hip against the door frame and crossed his arms, an eyebrow raising, "Oh? I was starting to think you didn't want me around anymore," he said.

"Nonsense. What say you and I grab a couple of beers and catch up? I haven't seen you since you took off at the flag celebration," Hamilton grinned.

Laurens returned it and stepped out of the doorway, gesturing Hamilton inside. He shut the door and hurried to the living room. "Sorry if it's a bit of a mess. I wasn't expecting you, as I said earlier," he explained, scooping all sorts of different papers and tucking them away. Hamilton caught a glimpse of one.

"Are those blueprints? I didn't know you were interested in architecture."

Laurens smiled, "I'm not really, Adams asked me to collect these forever ago."

"Oh, that's right! You're part of his cabinet, congrats!" Hamilton clapped him on the shoulder and raided his fridge for a couple of beers. Laurens had served as a Representative in the House while Hamilton was president but now he was serving under Adams.

Laurens chuckled. "Yep. Sometimes I think he's a little crazy though."

"Don't I know it," Hamilton muttered, handing Laurens a bottle.

"No kidding. He has these random periods set aside for meetings or something, but I never see the guest arrive and there's never any record of them being there. It's weird."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and the other day I could've sworn I saw Seabury but he disappeared. Almost magically. Hey, you don't think he could've been using one of the secret passages you were telling me about?"

Hamilton thought for a moment, "Not unless someone told him about them, they're pretty much impossible to spot unless you're actively looking for them. He wouldn't have even known they existed."

"Unless someone told him," Laurens took a drink of his beer.

God damn, he was right. "Are you sure you saw Seabury?"

Laurens shook his head, "It could've been Charles Lee, or maybe even Thomas Conway. They all look the same to me. Traitorous. Cowardly. Little cunts. Hey! Kinda like King George!" Laurens laughed as he took another drink.

"Yeah," Hamilton said distractedly, thinking.

"You know, I bet Burr would fit in perfectly with them."

Something clicked in Hamilton's mind. He set down the beer suddenly, "Sorry, John, I gotta go," Hamilton said, standing and going for the door.

"What?" Laurens asked, confused, "Why? I thought we were hanging out today?"

"I know, I'm sorry," Hamilton called over his shoulder as he opened the door, "I've gotta talk to Thomas. We'll get together later! I promise!" Hamilton was out the door.

Laurens sat back into his couch grumbling to himself, "Stupid motherfucking Jefferson, he can shove off for all I care."

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