The Parent Revolution (A Hamilton AU)

17. Fight or Flight

The trip was hell. Twelve hours of turbulence, airsickness, awkward silence, and fitful sleep. Thomas was wedged between Eliza and John, in the middle seat. Eliza slept the entire flight, and John was working on his laptop doing... something important, no doubt. So Thomas threw up until he had nothing left to spew out, and didn't even have anyone to pity him. 

And before they even got on the accursed plane, they had to go through customs, which was interesting, because Thomas only had Laf's passport, so he was technically breaking all the laws. Why had that not occurred to them at camp? 

There wasa conversation he'll never forget. John had taken a break from his laptop to charge it and take a moment to nap, and Thomas had asked him, "What's your story, John?"

The butler chuckled, but not with humour. "Marquis didn't tell you, did he?" John nodded, settling back into the seat, trying to get comfortable, even though that's a losing battle. "I didn't think so. It's very personal information."

For a moment, it looked like John wasn't going to elaborate, but, to Thomas' surprise, he did. "I grew up in a big family, four siblings. I loved them more than I can possibly say. They were my everything. My dad, not so much. I figured if we kept our heads down, we just might get out unscathed.

"And we almost did. I was seventeen and ten months, only September and October away from freedom. My plan was to get custody of them when I was legally an adult. But he found out, and he burned my world to the ground."

Thomas listened to the story unfold in a mixture of silent horror and gratitude that John trusted him enough to tell him it. "He beat me so bad I landed in the hospital, then set our house on fire while he was still in it. Thankfully, James, Martha, Mary and Henry weren't here for any of it-- they were visiting family friends. They ended up living with them after that, and I haven't seen them since. The social workers said it would be better for them if I just... stayed away."

He sighed, settling back into the seat. Finally finding his voice, Thomas asked, "And that's it? You ran away?"

"Yeah, pretty much," John said, before dropping off to sleep. It's worth noting that he slept uneasily, shifting, turning, and occasionally muttering something indecipherable under his breath. 

Yes, the flight sucked, but when Thomas looked back on it later, he was immensely glad that it wasn't worse. He was grateful that Eliza chose to sleep instead of get into an argument, because she had a right to be angry with him. He was grateful that John told him his story, instead of telling him to shove it. 

--

When the three of them emerged from the airport, a cab was waiting for them. John must've called it while Thomas and Eliza were at the baggage claim, searching for their suitcases. They loaded in, and Thomas slept like a log, resting his head on Eliza's lap. 

--

The cab slammed on its brakes, forcing Thomas awake and alert. Getting out, Thomas looked up to see his house staring down at him, and he felt very small. He looked over his shoulder to see Eliza standing behind him. Taking in a deep breath, he started walking forwards.

Too soon, he was at the door. It stared back at him, imposing and judgmental. He felt sick. Unsteady hands reached out and hesitated one last time before rapping once on the wood, hearing it echo through the entire house like a deep bass drum.