Second Chances

Chapter 9: Relive the Past (Part 2)

(That's legitimately one of my favorite pieces of art EVER. I don't know if it's because John looks super graceful and beautiful while he's dead or what, but I love this art SO SO much)

This is the part of the story I liked to call...Angst city. Population: Anastasia. This chapter is enormous, and there's still one more part WITH EVEN MORE ANGST to write. However, part 2 was getting a bit long and I knew I'd need to split it up more. And also, it's been killing me to not post. I've really enjoyed writing it though. I've had fun writing angst (something I don't do often), but there's also some family fluff that I dragged myself into, BECAUSE ANASTASIA'S FAMILY IS CUTE ALRIGHT? HOPE YOU BROUGHT TISSUES, BECAUSE THERE'S A BODY COUNT. 

Warnings: Death & Suggestion of Suicide

Much Love, Krissy

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We continue our flashbacks

Rage. Pent up, boiling rage. I glare down at the letter, reading it for a fifth time. Alexander and John are doing what?! Dueling! They're going to duel with Charles Lee. Idiots, the both of them! I leave the letter on the desk and stand, taking strong steps toward the door before pausing. I press my hand to my stomach. My baby...Perhaps this isn't a good idea. No, no, I need to do this. I hurry through the house, waving off each helper who questions me. At the door, though, a young girl stops me.

"Miss Anastasia, where are you going?" she, Marie, asks. I sigh. Jonathan should know where I've gone.

"My dear friend John Laurens is in danger of doing something stupid. I must go to his camp and sort common sense into his brain," I say firmly, tugging on my coat. She helps me with the coat and begins buttoning it for me, despite my not asking her to.

"The same Laurens you write to so often, Miss?" she asks. I nod, forgetting she isn't looking at me.

"Oui, Marie. The very same one," I say calmly. She nods and opens the door for me.

"When should we expect you to return?" she asks. I run the idea over in my mind another time.

"No later than tomorrow night before supper," I say. Once again, she nods, and I wordlessly hurry out the door. I wave down a nearby carriage, not caring what condition it's in. I must first return to my mother's home, where I have left my men's clothing. I am also in need of a horse. I will get both from home.

The feeling of pants, shirt, and boots are a familiar feeling on my frame, and I make sure my hair is tied securely back before I whip the reins and ride my horse off into town. I know the route to the camp by heart. Perhaps it will take hours, but I must get there. The idiots! The fools! I have to knock sense into them. I snap the reins and urge my horse to go faster. For a moment, I forget about my baby.

The camp is busy, just as usual, just as I remember it being. It's familiar, even after two years away. Some of the aides seem to recognize me, and I nearly fall off my horse when I see Lafayette look up at me. I slow my horse to a trot and loop around, stopping her next to Lafayette.

"Que fais-tu ici (What are you doing here)?" he hisses, grabbing some of the reins to make sure I don't run away from him. I dismount my horse, holding onto her reins.

"Je suis ici pour dénoncer une certaine paire d'hommes (I'm here to tell off a certain pair of men). Where are Hamilton and Laurens?" I demand, not bothering to set things casually. His eyes widen slightly at the tone of my voice. He has not heard this sort of command from me in a long while. He sighs and looks around, before putting a hand against my lower back.