Stay Alive --Hamilton Apocalypse AU--

.:4:.

Hamilton 

With aching feet and a growling stomach, Alexander realized that he should have taken advantage of any break he could catch in the old world. Back then, the only thing he'd lose if he stopped working was maybe a few hours of progress. Now he didn't have a choice but to keep walking unless he wanted to die without having any impact on the world. 

He shifted the backpack on his shoulder and tried to stop for a few seconds to let his feet rest. Then he heard a familiar groaning behind him and decided that he could rest when he was dead. That wasn't going to be anytime soon, though. He forced himself to keep moving and looked up at the sky to see how dark it was getting. Apparently, he didn't check often enough or pay attention to the amount of light he had left because the sun was starting to set and he was still walking in the middle of the street. 

Deciding that it was time to stop, he went to the closest house that he could see. He pulled a crowbar from his bag and flipped it in his hand a few times before approaching the door slowly. It wasn't totally unsafe to approach the house that he had no information on because he checked for limping bodies before he raised the bar above his head to smash down on the doorknob. Then he remembered turning the handle was just as effective, so he did that.

Before anything could start grouping around him, he slipped inside, still gripping the bar so hard his knuckles were turning white. 

Once inside, he looked around intensely. He was listening as hard as his ears would allow for any groaning or growling that might have been coming from inside the house. Or maybe even just regular breathing other than his own. He just wanted to know if anything was in the house or if he was fine to set up for the night. 

He wandered around, listening at doors and looking out windows as he went. If he thought he heard something, he'd slowly open the door, then barge in with his weapon raised. After he was done snooping around for other people or dead things, he looked into all the rooms to find out which was the best for sleeping. It had been way too long, in his opinion, since he'd slept on an actual bed, so he decided on the master bedroom. 

He threw his stuff down and, before he used any of his limited rations, went to go clear the kitchen of any provisions that may have been left behind.

First, he emptied drawers. He made a pile of the sharpest knives that he figured could be used as a weapon on an island counter. He grabbed a flashlight and flicked a couple times to make sure it still worked, which he was surprised to find that it did. He shined the light into the fridge to make sure there wasn't anything in there. Of course with the power shut off, there wasn't anything new to find. 

He moved to look through the counters. He opened one but as soon as he did, he fell to the ground. He tried getting up but something was pinning him down. 

"Who are you?!" Someone shouted. Hamilton tried to respond but he was too stunned to form any words. Someone was pinning him to the ground. A person. A living, breathing, probably noncannibalistic person was near him. "Answer me!" he yelled again. 

"Alexander," Hamilton groaned. His voice was raw from the lack of use, which hurt slightly, but it was nothing compared to the sharp knee digging into his back. 

"Alexander who," the man growled. 

"Does that even matter?"

"To me, yes." 

Alex stayed quiet in defiance. He didn't see any point in telling his attacker his last name. There wasn't any use for it anymore, it's not like there were enough survivors to have the same name as him. 

The man above him pressed something to Hamilton's head, followed by a familiar clicking noise that told Alexander that there was a gun at his head. 

". . . Hamilton," he muttered. "Alexander Hamilton." 

The man got up roughly and yanked Hamilton up by his shirt collar. Still with the gun pointed directly at his face, the other man commanded, "Give me your weapons." 

"Why?"

"Because you're in my house and I'm not about to die at the hands of some kid. Weapons. Now." He flicked the gun toward the counter to tell him that's where he was supposed to put them.

Hamilton scoffed. "I'm not gonna kill you." 

"I don't trust you." 

"And I'm just supposed to trust that you won't kill me?" 

The man just shrugged and Hamilton set down every weapon he had on him. It was only a couple knives and one gun, but the man with the cocked gun seemed pleased with it. 

"So who are you?" Alex asked, crossing his arms over his chest in a dramatic way to show that he was overly annoyed. 

"George Washington," he replied. He added a cocky smile and Alexander could practically hear him saying 'that wasn't so hard'. 

Hamilton rolled his eyes and decided that he wasn't going to stay there. He'd rather take his chances out in the world at night than stay in that house. He made his way back to the master bedroom to grab his bag then headed for the front door. 

"Where're you going?" Washington asked. 

"Away from here." 

"At night? That's a good idea to you?" 

"It's better than staying here." 

Washington scoffed and walked over to Hamilton. "You're staying here for the night, then whatever happens tomorrow is on you. I'm not dying at the hands of a kid, but I'm not about to be responsible for your death either." 

"I'm not going to die, I've survived this long." 

"You didn't hear me coming up behind you and you refused to say your last name until I pulled a gun on you." Washington put his hand on the door to keep it closed. "You're staying here for the night." 

Alexander groaned but didn't really want to argue it. His feet felt like they were on fire and he hadn't slept much the night before, so staying in a house for a night didn't seem like a terrible idea. The only thing holding him back was the fact that he didn't know the full effect of the apocalypse on other people, so he wasn't sure how much he could trust the man that pulled a gun on him for not saying his name. 

"Fine," he muttered. 

"You'll sleep in the extra bedroom. No windows and I'm going to block the door to make sure you don't try to kill me," George clarified. He didn't leave any room for argument, he just walked down the hall to one of the rooms and opened the door. Hamilton walked in and, without another word, the other slammed the door shut. 

There was a scraping noise outside the door, which Alexander assumed was George barricading the entrance. He flopped himself down on the bed and for the first time for as long as Hamilton could remember, he immediately fell into a dreamless sleep.