Chapter Text
Theo Burr was shot.
These are the words heard all over the campus of Kings High School on this unseasonably cold October day. The message is whispered from friend to friend, shouted across the lunch room, shared in hushed voices in the teacher's lounge. Those who don't know the girl gleefully spread the dramatic news, overjoyed that something halfway interesting had happened at the small school. Those who are familiar with her frantically text both her and each other, their phones blowing up with panic, but go without one notification from Theodosia Burr Jr. The school is chaotic and confused as a whole.
Of course, no one knows what, exactly, happened, which assists the chaos. What is for sure was that a shot rung out across the courtyard this morning, before class. That ambulances had rushed to the scene. That there was a collapsed student across the street from the school, just off school property, who was surrounded by teachers and nurses for several minutes following the gunshot, identity recognized as Theodosia Burr. That the student had been loaded onto the ambulance and rushed to the hospital. That Theo Burr is missing from school and the brief description they get from some witnesses matched hers exactly.
That all the signs point to the fact that Theo Burr was shot.
School gossips go on a determined search for more information, interrogating teachers, hassling friends, searching the web for any news. They come up empty, and the school stays in the dark.
Except for one student. One student knows exactly what happened. And the one student had been guided to a cop car for questioning after the crisis had happened, determined to get the police work done so he could rush to the hospital as soon as humanly possible, continuing to infuriate gossips and friends alike by his stubborn silence on the issue.
But does sixteen-year-old Philip Hamilton care how much anger he's putting the entire school through as he sits in the backseat of a cop car, taken to the police station not as a witness but as a suspect, leaning his temple against the cool glass of the window and trying to remind himself to breathe at least occasionally?
Hell no, he doesn't care.
Why the hell would he?
***
Philip had been there when it had happened. He was a witness. He had been standing beside Theo, defending her. Now, as he sits helplessly in the police cruiser, the entire situation plays itself over and over in his head, forcing him to remember. Forcing him to go back to the moment, to relive the experience, to keep the last instant he was positive Theo was alive fresh in his mind.
George Eacker has been after Theo since middle school. Forever flirting, forever nagging, forever determined to be able to call the girl his own. Not that he didn't already, granted, but with her consent, which a very different matter entirely.
Unfortunately for him, Theo knew exactly the kind of man George was. Coarse, cutting, vicious. Completely and utterly unattractive in her eyes. But, no matter how many times she told him this, he was unbearably stubborn in his pursuit of her hand, and extremely determined. It didn't seem to matter to him that Theo and Philip have been dating for the past two years.
Philip was none too pleased with Eacker. Never had been, even when he and Theo were just friends and he was forced to just watch him repeatedly heckle the girl. But now that they’re together, it really pissed him off, and now that they’re dating, he could finally do something about it.
If it hadn't been for Theo.
She was the one that refused to allow him to teach the stubborn kid a lesson. She was the one to talk him down from his anger every time Eacker as much as glanced in her direction for the next two years, to assure him that she had been dealing with the man for far longer than Philip had and that she knew the best way to deal with him, which was to ignore Eacker until he got bored. He was a man with a short attention span and things rarely were able to keep his focus for long, so if Eacker was ignored long enough, he would lose interest.
That technique got a whole lot harder when he showed up with a gun.
Eacker had to be just screwing around. Even a kid that messed up wouldn't actually dare to shoot, not when said kid was barely eighteen and could get in monumental trouble for shooting someone in general and especially while on school grounds. In fact, Eacker was taking a huge risk here. If anyone even saw him with the weapon he’d most likely be expelled. But that didn't stop the senior, a year older than Philip and Theo, to flaunt the pistol like next season’s shoes. But, of course, there had to be the dramatic reveal first.
“What are you doing, Eacker?” Philip asked tiredly that morning, really getting fed up with the man’s shit as he approached the couple yet again in the school courtyard, before class began for the day and as Theo and Philip were walking into the school. Theo had rejected this kid an incredible amount of times, until it almost became a game to Eacker. Philip was no longer entirely sure if it was a matter of actual attraction for the senior, or just the thrill of the chase that kept bringing him back. Either way Philip really wished Eacker would just leave them alone.
But then the pistol was pulled out of the older boy’s belt, causing Philip to take a startled step back. No one else around them seemed to notice the weapon, but as the dark metal glinted in the sun, it was all Philip could see. He didn't realize that he had taken a protective half step in front of Theo. Theo, however, didn't quite flinch, just stared at Eacker like she couldn't quite believe what he was doing.
“Darling, I’d like to ask you to reconsider my offer,” Eacker drawled carelessly, caressing the gun and completely ignoring Philip, who was unsure which of the couple he had meant the pistol for. Eacker’s gaze was fixed on Theo, cool eyes dull.
“You’ve resigned to death threats?!” Philip snapped, disgusted but also somewhat shocked, feeling as if he was stuck in some sort of overly theatrical soap drama as his classmates obliviously strolled past the situation. He hadn't realized that Eacker would stoop this low, and he definitely hadn’t been prepared for it. But his voice stayed strong, even as his hands shook slightly at his sides. “What the hell? Do you have a death wish or something or are you just plain stupid?”
“Dear, would you mind telling your bothersome boyfriend to shut up?” Eacker asked Theo. He didn't even cast a glance over at Philip, instead keeping his gaze fixed on Theo. The gun hung from his hand, capable of so much destruction and just sitting there, like a ticking time bomb that could explode at any moment.
Despite attempting to be both strong and somewhat stoic, trying to put up a front, a true tendril of fear began snaking it’s way through Philip, curling around his heart and settling a deep feeling of cold into him. Philip wasn’t a big nor scary guy. He was tall, sure, but beside Eacker, he felt like a shrimp. An unarmed shrimp, trying to protect Theo against a shark.
He really had a bad feeling about this.
Philip was about to try and snap a hopefully intimidating insult Eacker’s way when Theo set a hand on his shoulder. Her nearly black eyes were firm, long hair spilling over down her back in wild yet beautiful curls that caught the morning light. Philip softened slightly just looking at her despite the situation; God, he was helpless around this girl, and everyone knew that she was probably his biggest influence. Despite both of them being strong individuals, she meant everything to him.
“Pip,” she commanded softly, eyes fixed on his. “I’ve told him off countless times. He refuses to listen. Just let it go this time around, okay? It’s a waste of breath. He's not going to shoot anyway- he's a jerk, but he's not stupid.”
A small, rebellious, protective part of him wanted to ignore her. Wanted to go against her words. But, Philip knew that it was stupid to keep continuing this. And not to mention dangerous- Eacker's gun was still securely in the senior's grip.
Philip pursed his lips, looking after the wryly smiling Eacker in anger for a moment before sighing in submission. He let his anger go in the breath, still trying to reassure himself that the fear he was experiencing was unneeded. “Okay,” he finally agreed, smiling faintly and without mirth, the small expression agreeing to her words as he tried to keep his eyes from focusing on the weapon. “Let’s get out of here. We're probably going to be late to class anyway.”
Just as the two were turning to leave, Eacker aimed and cocked the gun.
And then the gun went off.
Philip remembers the moment with startling clarity and unbelievable confusion at the same time. His eyes close in pain even as he thinks about it now, the police car silent with the exception of the driver muttering into a radio and the static filled responses following his murmured words. His jaw clenches to fend off the tears, the side of his head thudding dully against the window, curls pressed against the glass.
He had frozen as he saw the bullet rip into Theo. Gone completely rigid in horror as the blood sprayed from her side, as she went gray in the face, clutching her side, and then hit the ground. Hadn't made a sound. Hadn’t moved.
Hadn’t protected her.
He should have protected her.
Suddenly, people were screaming. Students and teachers alike, frantic, confused cries at the sound of the gun. The startling, gut wrenching sounds broke Philip out of his daze, stumbling back several steps as a ragged inhale of a gasp ripped its way down his throat. He wasn't sure when his hand had hand flown to his mouth, but now he was panting through his fingers as he stared at his girlfriend's blood staining the grass.
Eacker was nowhere to be found.
For a stunned moment that lasted maybe a second, or maybe even a fraction of a second, it was as if Philip was underwater, as if the flurry of motion around him was struck down almost to stillness. His mind spun, of course, but one of the main questions was something he couldn’t avoid.
Was that a school shooting?
But then, Philip realized where he was standing.
Just off school grounds. Just feet away from the property line. Just off the curb that began what belonged to King’s High School, just off where they had to be, just in the perfect place to be deceived.
George Eacker had a plan.
Oh dear god.
Philip unfroze and dropped like a rock to the ground next to Theo, cradling her head in his lap, his breaths coming in panicked gasps. He tried to pull himself back into the moment, tried to keep himself centered, but he felt as if he was about to drift off and if he would never be free again in the same moment. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be happening, not here, not now, not to them and not to her, god, please not to Theo. No no no no, PLEASE, no...
Theo’s dark hair fanned out across his jeans, her breathing already labored and also coming in pants, these of pain, as she stared up at him, something like surprise and confusion written in her expression as her eyes searched his face. Scarlet bloomed across her shirt, her hand going to the wound as she tried to say something, tried to speak.
“Shh, no, Theo,” Philip tried to say firmly, but his voice cracked in the middle of her name. He stroked her hair and tried to keep his eyes off of the wound, trying to calm them both while not letting his true emotions and true panic make an appearance. He was a poet, he was a writer, his emotions were at the surface at all times. He wasn’t good at suppressing them, but he tried, he had to try. “Theodosia Burr Jr., stay with me. You’re going to be okay. Stay awake.”
“What the hell was that, what was he thinking,” she whimpered, but she still stayed in control. Philip was somehow unsurprised that she still managed to keep herself together even when she was bleeding out, her ebony skin shining with tears but her disposition still calm regardless.
“I don't know, T. Shh, babe, save your strength.”
He grits his teeth now against the scream building in the back of his throat, eyes still closed against the pain of the memory. He wants to stop remembering there, to pull himself back into the moment and focus on the the cool leather of the seats beneath him, the eerie quiet of the police car, instead of the shooting of the one person he loved the most on the world. But the memory shows no mercy.
A nurse and several teachers came flying to their side only instants after the gunshot sounded. The nurse saw Theo and only went faster, hair tousled in the wind and medical kit clutched in his fist, scrubs meeting the grass with a thud as he knelt beside Theo. By that point, the girl was lying flat on her back, head in Philip’s lap and bullet wound still bleeding profusely. Philip swallowed hard, his mind racing as he tried to keep himself together for the sake of the girl before him.
“Mr. Stevens,” Philip breathed in relief as the school nurse did a visual once over of Theo. The teachers formed a bit of a shield around the shot girl and her boyfriend, keeping curious students away and allowing the nurse to work with only Philip and Theo as witnesses.
Ned Stevens ignored Philip, focused on the patient before him instead. He was a family friend, had grown up with one of Philip’s dads, and the boy tried to take solace in the fact that he was a familiar figure in the midst of absolute chaos. He needed that familiarity. The nurse's expression was set and determined as his hands ghosted over her, taking in the wounds and what had happened, dark eyes behind wireless glasses narrowed and lips in a thin line of concentration. His glasses caught the sunlight when he reached for Theo, shifting her just enough to move her sweater out of the way to see the wound itself. The bullet had apparently entered right above her left hip, the wound oozing a slow but steady flow of blood that showed no signs of stopping in the near future. Philip tried not to be sick as he watched the nurse work, bile climbing up in his throat.
Philip presses down another scream as the memory continues, but he can't stop the flashback. Like a television with a lost remote, Philip can’t stop watching, can't stop listening, can't stop feeling. His fist clenches around the car door handle in a fight for control.
Theo gasped in pain when Ned had to move her, but the man ignored that as well. His gentle fingers swept along Theo’s back, and then along her arm. “It went right through her,” he said flatly, the first thing he said since he came to Theo’s side. His tone was calm but stunned, not stopping in his movements but the hidden horror in his eyes. “Lodged in her right arm. Two wounds.”
“What does that mean?” Philip asked frantically, unsure of anything at the moment. For god's sake, he just wanted somebody to tell him something straight. He found himself wanting to pull Theo impossibly closer to him, protect her of the wounds already inflicted, not let the world hurt her any more at all.
Ned's gaze settled upon Philip's, voice sharp and clinical even as his eyes softened slightly in sympathy for the terrified boy sitting before him. “It means there'll be more blood loss, more catastrophic damage. The wound is severe, Philip.”
“Oh, god,” Philip groaned, watching Theo religiously in fear of looking away. She was conscious, but her face was painfully gray and her dazed eyes streamed a constant track of involuntary tears. But, in a fashion that was so incredibly in character Philip could have cried, her hand found his in a silent understanding of it's okay. She was comforting him, not the other way around, as their fingers laced, her's clammy and cold and stained in blood but the firm squeeze that followed just as set as Theo herself. Philip pressed his free hand to his mouth, trying not to sob.
Ned had already moved on, hurriedly asking for some sort of material or cloth. Philip immediately removed his sweatshirt and handed it to the nurse. Although it was cold sitting outside in a t-shirt, the frosted grass forcing a deep chill through his jeans, Philip paid no attention to the temperature. In fact, he almost felt too warm, his heart pounding in his fingertips as he grabbed Theo's hand again, squeezing it once to remind her that he was still there.
Balling up the fabric, Ned held the sweatshirt up to Theo’s main wound above her hip and pressed down hard.
Theo arched her back against the grass, letting out a cry of pain and coming back into motion and life extremely quickly. She let several profanities fly in a stream of cussing to rival Philip's pop when he realized he forgot to close the garage door, her teeth clenching as the swears faded off into a groan. Her hand was wrapped so tightly around Philip's that he was sure he'd start to lose feelings in his fingers sometime soon, the strength nearly doubling as Ned shifted more of his weight onto the hand holding the sweatshirt, caving in and increasing the amount of pressure.
“So you are still conscious,” the man grunted in response to the girl’s pain, but didn't stop putting pressure on where the bullet entered. His eyes flickered to her face, dark and firm, genuine but unwavering. “Theo, you’re gonna need to stay with us. Don't you dare slip away. You hear me?”
The girl’s breathing was growing increasingly labored, her eyes becoming unfocused even in the grounding of terrible pain. She was limp in Philip’s arms.
“She’s fading,” Philip breathed.
“That's what I was afraid of,” Ned muttered, gritting his teeth as he still increased the pressure on the girl’s wound. The sweatshirt was quickly becoming soaked with blood, and it was an unfortunate pale blue color, so you could see every drop of red.
There were far too many drops of red.
Philip screams in the back of the police car.
Sirens were heard, coming steadily closer to the school, and it then it was just a blur from there. The ambulances and cruisers screeched into the school parking lot, paramedics sprinting to Theodosia. Teachers stepped aside to let them through as the emergency medics rushed to the girl's side. Ned explained her condition and what had happened to them in a fast, fluent tone.
Philip was pulled away, right into the crowd of policemen mixed with students and teachers. The students shouted out panicked messages, and the cops cornered him and fired rapid questions at him before he could even catch his breath from being shoved away from his girlfriend, leaving him confused and frantic in the middle of an interrogation. He was desperately trying to keep his gaze on Theo and make sure he knew how she was doing while simultaneously trying to step around the cops, go with her in the ambulance and stay with the girl for as long as he could. At his distraction and muttered avoidances, one cop reached and shook his shoulder roughly, attempting to get his attention but only causing Philip to stumble over himself and nearly lose his balance
The policeman to catch him was the one to save him. The man was older, most likely in his fifties or sixties, with a kind, sympathetic expression and warm eyes that were currently staring at Philip in pity. For a moment, he just steadied him, but then he began to guide him from the crowd, a gentle hand on Philip’s shoulder as he realized just how dazed, how traumatized the teenager actually was.
“Come on, boy. You’re just fine,” he said gruffly, dragging a hand over his stubble as he lead the boy away from the police officers, shooting venomous glares at any cop who dared try to pull the boy away from him and never losing contact with Philip's shoulder.
The sixteen-year-old stumbled blindly with the man, his mind numb and heart overwhelmed as the paramedics loaded a still bleeding Theo onto the ambulance, shouting to each other and shooing away curious bystanders. Philip still wanted to be there with her, be right where she was, but he watched as the ambulance door slammed closed and knew it was too late. It wasn't even worth trying.
Pulling his jean-clad legs to his chest, a broken sob now escapes Philip. He knows that the cops can probably hear him just fine up there in the front seat, that they definitely heard the guttural scream that erupted from him a few minutes ago, but he just can't bring himself to care anymore. Pressing his forehead to his knees, Philip releases the sobs trapped inside him since the moment that bullet made contact with Theo’s body.
The cop stopped their path a few feet away from the crowd, a steadying hand on Philip’s shoulder. Once they were still, he roughly turned the boy to face him, the teenager’s curls falling in his face as the cop's blue eyes studied Philip, smart and fixed under the rim of his hat and set firmly on the teenager's face. “Boy, you’re going to have to look at me," he said gruffly, both hands on Philip's shoulders as they faced each other head on. "Look me in the eye.”
Philip was grateful for the command; he didn't have to think in a situation where thinking was near impossible. His gaze flickered up to the man’s and stayed there, hazel meeting blue, in a moment of expectation.
The man let out a slight breath. “What is the girl’s name?”
“Theodosia Burr Jr.” The response was instantaneous, Philip's voice rough and hoarse with suppressed tears.
“What is your name?”
Easy. “Philip Laurens-Hamilton.”
“What is your relation to her?”
“She’s my girlfriend.”
“How long have you been together?”
Philip didn't have to think. They just had their anniversary a few weeks ago. “Two years and a month.”
“Do you love her?”
“God, yes.”
“Did you shoot her?”
Philip's gaze was unwavering. “No.”
The cop studied Philip intently the entire time of the questioning, his wrinkled hands never leaving the boy’s shoulders and his wise gaze never leaving Philip’s eyes. Now, the blue hues flickered over the teenager for a long, silent moment before locking into contact again with his hazel hues. “I believe you,” the cop said. “Let’s just make the others do the same.”
A hand still on the boy’s shoulder, the policeman lead Philip to his cruiser as he called to his partner. As the woman in blue jogged to reach the car and the remaining cops dispersed to interview the other witnesses.
Now, he swallows hard to try and stop his breakdown, forcing the sobs to subside. He had his little meltdown, he had his unloading session, now he’s gotta pull himself back together for real. His throat is raw from the scream that had scraped against it, the sobs that ripped out of him, and he knows that it’s time he shapes up as he pushes himself back into a sitting position, wiping roughly at the tear tracks down his cheeks. Time he just breathes.
Breathe, and push away the unimaginable possibility of losing Theo. Push away the horrible idea of his girlfriend never recovering. Push away the very thought of the girl being forever stuck as exactly that, a girl.
Push away the concept of losing the person he loves most in this screwed up world.
Breathe.
***
Philip isn’t sure how long he’s in the car, but he soon grows aware that the car has slowed to a stop. He glances up from the pointless spot his gaze had been fixed on, tucking his hair behind his ear with a mindless hand.
Officer Franklin, the kindly cop that had taken pity on Philip, parks the cruiser in the police department parking lot. His partner goes into the building to alert the other officers of Philip’s arrival, and Franklin meets Philip’s gaze in the mirror once she’s gone. The boy’s eyes are rimmed in red, hair disheveled and breathing stuttering.
A small, mirthless smile twitches at the corner of the officer’s mouth, looking empathetic and mournful. He had heard Philip’s breakdown, but truthfully, he can't find it in him to blame the kid for it. The teenager is dealing with this way better than he himself would have, that’s for sure. “Let’s get in and get this questioning on with," he says. "That way we can get ya back to the hospital sooner rather than later. How does that sound?”
Philip nods mutely, but then hesitates. His hand hovers overs his phone in his pocket, voice is hoarse when he speaks. “Do you- do you think I can make a personal phone call first?”
Franklin sits back again, looking thoughtful as his eyes study Philip in the rear-view mirror. “Who ya wanna talk to?” he asks, not harsh, just curious.
Philip purses his lips. “Theo’s dad. I- I’d rather he hear it from me.”
“Then go right ahead, boy.”
Taking another breath, he ignores the many frantic texts plaguing his homescreen and dials the number of the one person he knows needs to be aware of what had happened.
The phone is picked up a moment later, a smooth voice heard over the receiver, asking what he can do for Philip.
The boy swallows hard, clutching the phone tightly and blinking back more tears still as he catches Franklin’s reassuring gaze again in the rearview mirror. Blowing out a slow breath, he steels himself for the next words he has to say.
Breathe.
“Mr. Burr?”