Rise Up \\ Marvel + Hamilton

The One Where I Reveal My Secret Identity \\ Cat

I'm just going to say it.

History is a backstabbing, hope-thwarting, treacherous JERK.

I can't believe I let myself get my hopes up.

Just when everything seemed to be looking up, just when there was hope for a happy ending, hope that maybe for once in their lives Washington and Janet had been wrong... just then everything spiraled downhill.

What happened, you ask?

Well, Laurens is sick.

- - -

It had been several days since Laurens had fallen ill, and I had rarely strayed from his bedside since. Most of the time, Laurens had been unconscious, confined to his bed with a raging fever while a doctor stopped by from time to time to check how he was doing. There hadn't been a time jump yet since we'd decided to join the war officially, which already felt like ages ago, and I felt like I could be pulled away at any second by a beam of orange light-- if that happened, I would probably never see Laurens again (not alive, anyway).

It had been some of the most nerve-wrecking days of my life.

Now, I was slumped in a chair next to Laurens's bed, feeling like maybe I could get some sleep into my schedule for the first time a few days. Things were starting to look up: Laurens's condition seemed to be improving, and the day before he'd been mostly conscious again, even managing to eat something. I didn't quite trust it yet though -- I had a feeling this was just the calm before the storm.

But maybe, just maybe, nothing will go horribly wrong from here on.

I was jolted out of my deep train of thought by the voice of William McKennan, a captain that was just under Laurens in ranking, addressing me as he entered the tent.

"How is he doing?"

I was surprised, both by McKennan's sudden appearance as well as by the previously unencountered sincerity to his words. Laurens and Captain McKennan were far from friends-- in fact, McKennan could be counted to the handful of people whom I knew to truly dislike Laurens. Nevertheless, there was a hint of genuine concern in McKennan's voice that caught me off guard.

"I--, um... he's recovering," I answered truthfully, "at least, we think so. He'll probably be confined to his tent a few days longer, just in case."

McKennan nodded in understanding.

"Of course. You don't want to take any unnecessary risks."

We lapsed into a sage silence, both wordlessly watching the still-sleeping Laurens.

As if he had sensed our gazes resting on him, Laurens woke up. He mumbled a slurred "water, please" (even in his drowsy state, John Laurens was ever so polite) and I hastened to hand him the flask of water that had been strategically positioned at his beside.

Laurens chugged down half the contents of the flask, before handing it back to me with a grateful "thank you, Chris". He shifted his position so that he could sit up straight, rubbing his eyes to rid them of their blurry haze.

Once his sight had cleared, his gaze rested on McKennan, seemingly noticing him for the first time.

"Captain McKennan."

There was no sign of any enmity in his words or attitude, only curiosity and confusion.

"Colonel Laurens."

McKennan's expression was like a blank slate-- impossible to read.

"What are you doing here?"

My gaze flickered from McKennan's disinterested expression to Laurens's curious one, and then back to McKennan as he answered.