Falling Through Time: Basking in Firelight: Book 2

The Plot Thickens

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Warnings: Suppressed emotions, grief, mourning, depression, mental breakdown, all of it thoroughly described.

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By the time Hamilton got back to Jefferson's house, he was sucking down as much air as he could into his lungs. He'd run all the way there. Luckily, the crowds had dispersed upon discovery of Hamilton's absence. Good. Hamilton pounded on the door, "Thomas! Open the goddamned door!" he yelled between breaths.

The door swung open a moment later, "Jesus Christ, Alexander? What the fuck? What is it?"

"I think I know- how King George- got inside the Manor," he panted, resting his hands on his knees, trying to support himself.

"Holy shit. Come inside, I'll get you some water, you catch your breath."

Hamilton nodded and immediately went for Jefferson's couch, thankful for the softness as he collapsed into it. Jefferson handed him a cold glass of water which he gulped down greedily. As he finished, he wiped his mouth and asked, "Where's Laf?"

"At his house, nursing a hangover over. He just about emptied my wine cellar."

Hamilton nodded.

"Now spill. How did King George get in?"

"It just a theory, but either Adams or Burr."

"What?" Jefferson was shocked. "No way. There's no way."

"Just listen to what I have to say for fuck's sake," Hamilton snapped. Jefferson rose his hands in surrender. "King George got in through the passageways-"

"Impossible. He'd have to know they existed first, not to mention countless hours actually locating them," Jefferson interrupted.

"If you let me finish, you'd understand," Hamilton hissed through his teeth.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Please continue."

"Someone would've had to let George in from the inside. It's the only logical explanation. Someone in our cabinet or a vice president, they were the only people who knew about the passages. It had to be one of them. They let the King in and led him to our office. "

"Okay, even if one of our cabinet members were willing to commit treason, which they aren't, they would've had to discover the passages first and I don't think any of them discovered that many," Jefferson reasoned.

"Adams and Burr are the presidents now. Don't you think it strange how our greatest enemies were elected at the same time?"

"It's just coincidence-"

"Adams requested the blueprints from Congress through John when he was a Representative of our administration and Adams was vice. And again now that he's president. And there's been sighting of Seabury appearing and disappearing almost magically."

"Those blueprints wouldn't give anything away unless they were put together just right, I designed them you know. Give me some credit. And I'm sure Seabury is just a rumor, " Jefferson said easily.

"Angelica told me that Burr moves through the Manor like a ghost. In one room one second and on another floor the next."

"Okay, so? Angelica has figured out a few passages herself."

"But Burr is like a master. And we both know he's not exactly loyal. "

"What'd'ya mean?" Jefferson asked.

God, Hamilton loved that drawl. He shook the distracting thoughts from his head. "Burr shot you."

"And deeply regretted it."

"And then went on to try and turn Texas into an empire and commit treason. Just because he's sorry for shooting you doesn't clear him of the fact that he did shoot you and that didn't seem to stop him from continuing and committing treason a second time. "

"Okay, so he has some priorities mixed up," Jefferson relented. "But this is a different life. He's different."

Hamilton rose an eyebrow. Burr hadn't changed in the least. Not in the slightest. "It's either him or Adams. Or maybe even both."

"You're just saying that because you don't like them."

"BURR FUCKING SHOT YOU!"

Jefferson sighed, "You're never going to let that go, are you?"

"And why should I?" Hamilton asked hotly.

"Alexander, it was over two hundred years ago!"

"He killed you, Thomas! Can't you remember what that felt like?" Hamilton snapped.

"It was painful and it haunts my dreams, but I'm the one that died, not you. It should be my choice to decide if he gets to be forgiven or not," Jefferson argued.

Hamilton threw up his hands, "Fine. But let me tell you how it felt for me. Imagine the ground beneath tilts, turning sideways. You're slipping. Sliding down into to darkness and everything you try and grab onto crumbles like ashes in your hands. You fall and fall and fall and just when you get used to the emptiness, the darkness that haunts you, you plummet into the cold abyss of water. You can't see and you're drowning. Your lungs are burning as you gasp for air but all you get is the pain of water forcing its way down your throat, smothering you. Only you don't die because you're not actually drowning and you're breathing just fine. No, it only feels like you are. Other than pain, you can't feel a thing. It's empty. Life doesn't shine. Color means nothing, nor does good food or a warm fire. Everything is cold. And on the rare occasion, you do feel something, it's crushing grief. It's your chest caving in because there's an empty cavity where your heart used to be. Everyone tries to get you to smile but all you really want is the warm embrace of someone who is cold and six feet under. So you settle for silence. The deafening silence that tears a mind apart. You push everyone away and walk the empty halls of a house you used to wake up in every morning with the love of your life. Expecting them to be around any corner but you know you they're not now will they ever be. Can you imagine? The one person that kept you going through all the bullshit we called life, suddenly ripped from you?" Hamilton could feel the hot, angry tears streaking down his face. His hands clenching and unclenching. There are moments that words just can't reach. Impossible to properly describe.

"Alexander-"

"And the only thing keeping you going, keeping you alive day after day of eternal hell is the thought that out there, somewhere, walking the earth, is the murderer that took you away. Burr took you away from me and I swore my vengeance. So no, I can never forgive him for what he did to us. To you. The only reason he's still alive is because you're holding me back from pulling the trigger. You were gone and that's all I had left to keep me going, you can't take that away from me!"

Hamilton was breathing heavily, he angrily wiped the tears from his face. Jefferson pulled Hamilton into a soft, warm embrace, smoothing down his hair and drying the tears on his face. "Shh, Alexander. I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry that I left you all alone. You don't really blame Burr, do you? It's my fault that I stepped in front of you. It's my fault I left you. It's my fault that you had to go through that pain."

Hamilton broke, balling his fist into Jefferson's coat and crying uglily. Horrid sounds ripped from his throat and Jefferson held him through it all.

How did it get to this?

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