Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

NEW YORK POST - SPECIAL EDITION

Soul-Mates

In this world, when one touches one’s soul-mate, they feel like one being. They feel each other’s emotions, share their memories, exchange views, become inseparable. After the first initial touch, all they want to do is be wrapped up in each other and never be two separate beings, two separate minds, again.

  This is known as the Union Phase. The couple must be given space and time, to separate their memories from the others’, and realise that they are, in fact, two humans, and not one. They will talk at the exact same time, saying the exact same words. They will walk in perfect balance, neither’s foot touching the ground before the other’s. During this Phase, friends and relatives are advised to call the couple by a fused name, to eliminate complications that come along with using only one of the pair’s name.

  After the initial shock of touching, they forget who they are, their minds fusing together for a period of time. This period can last from as short a time as a week, and as long a time as an entire year. The longest held record is a total of one year and six months. The connection was so strong because the two people in question, Mary-Jane Scott and Regan Phillard, had known each other for an extended time before ever coming in contact with each other. The shortest held record is a total of four days, in which the couple, John Freeman and Klien Armen Holmes, had been passing each other in a foreign airport during a war in that country as they tried to flee from their respective families. (Let it be known that the couple in question cannot be held responsible for how long they stay as one being.)

  The couple can still work, and can do daily routines, but must do them together. If one’s boss, coworker or peer tries to separate the two, a resulting mental breakdown of both will incapacitate them until they are within each other’s grasp once again.

  Once that time is up, however, the couple in question (Or, in rare cases, the trio or quartet) start to separate. During this time, which is called the Separation Phase, the couple should not be more than three rooms apart, for the resulting pain in and around the physical heart for both parties involved becomes agonizing the farther they go. This is the time in which the couple remembers who they are, were, and are going to be. The memories of one stays with the other, but only as foggy remembrances, and definable as not their own.

  The Separation Phase lasts about as long as the Union Phase, if a bit shorter, generally clocking in with a month less than the Union Phase, unless the Union Phase was undeniably short. They will start to cling to each other less, and begin speaking more individually, voicing separate opinions and speaking even when the other is not. They will start to walk however they had walked before, and their steps will become less in sync. Sometimes, if one is more dominant than the other, the less dominant of the pair will retreat in on themselves because of the sudden lack of ‘support’, producing less work and becoming more compliant, until all of their memories are separated.

  Finally, the Realisation/Reunion Phase, where the two have finally become two separate, sentient beings, is the Phase that almost all soul-mates stay in forever. This Phase is when the two start a relationship, be it dating, betrothal, and/or marriage. This is supposed to be the ending Phase, with none others after, but studies has proven that the R/R Phase is not, in fact the end Phase for some soul-mates, and is, in truth, the middle to a complex twist relationship.

  The Extra Phases, or the NMTE Phases (Never Meant To Exist Phases), are so rare that most don’t know about them. They happen when the couple are not happy with each other, or have a problem with loving each other, such as the cases of Phillipa Greeneland Magdalen and Bethonavan Ricardo Michigan-Switan. Not many know of what happened to the pair of them, but the fact is that Mrs. Magdalen had been married to a Tony Stewart Magdalen for nine years, and Mr. Michigan-Switan had just gotten betrothed.

  The pair, when they found out that their fiancée and husband were not who they were destined to be with, ran away from their problems, diving head-first into NMTE and turmoil.

  Truly, if those types of soul-mates were made to be together, why would the fates be so cruel as to-

Click, SLAM!

  Alexander sighed. He stared at his now-closed laptop, which he had shut out of frustration. He didn’t get why people were so obsessed with soul-mates. Couldn’t they see that that was just an easy way to get hurt, that all this ‘love’ talk was just one giant distraction? He sighed again.

  Alexander Hamilton was the Treasury Secretary under George Washington (II), who was the President of the United States, beating out everyone else who ran for President in 2017, a year ago, and he took his work very, very seriously. He would, without admitting to it, work himself into the ground sometimes, going days without eating and sleeping. Along with his dedication to work, however, was his mindset that a soul-mate would just distract him from said work.

  His roommates, John Laurens, Hercules Mulligan and Marie Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, Marquis de Lafayette (or just Lafayette) had always pestered him about this fact, pushing him into strangers and nagging him about who he must deserve.

  Alexander ignored them.

  He didn’t need anybody, and he never would. He’d tried with John and Elizabeth Schuyler once, and both of those relationships sunk quickly into the Mariana Trench. Why would a soul-mate relationship be any different from those two?

  Getting up off the bed with yet another sigh, Alexander went into the kitchen to make coffee and get ready for the day. He’d been up all night working on a few tweaks and amendments to a few of the banks around New York and their power, loosing all sense of time. He had decided that he’d done enough for the plan at about 4:00am and checked out the NYP, but that had proved to be a bust for his mental state.

  Pouring out most of the pot, he watched John walk into the small living room and stretch from the other side of the apartment, coming out of his own room. The apartment had four bedrooms, a kitchen, a tiny living room, and a bathroom connected to Alexander’s bedroom. It was an anomaly in and of itself for having so many bedrooms, but none of its occupants were complaining about the increase of private space equivalent to the decrease in community space.

  “Why are you up so early?” John asked, staring at Alexander, looking like a zombie. “It’s hardly five, where are you going?”

  Alexander rolled his eyes. “Didn’t I tell you? I have an early meeting at the office, with Washington, Jefferson and a few cabinet and senate members. You didn’t have to get up to the sounds of me making coffee, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know,” John said with a yawn, “but you never make breakfast, and you need to eat more. Here, what time is your meeting?”

  Alexander checked his watch. “In about two hours. I need to prepare.”

  John made his way over to Alexander and grabbed him by the arm, hauling him towards the kitchen table.

  “No,” he said in a very motherly tone, “you need to eat. Let me make you some pancakes.”

  Alexander overexaggerated a sigh, rolling his eyes and stretching his arms in an attempt to express his faux-annoyance. “Oh no, the horror, my best friend is going to make the best food in the world in the best way he knows how! How will I ever survive?”

  John huffed and smiled at the theatrics, going over to the stove with a pan and pre-made batter, turning it on.

  As the smell of pancakes filled the air, Hercules slowly shuffled his way into the living room, bumping into furniture and almost knocking over the lamp that sat beside the couch.

  “Yo, is that pancakes I smell?” he asked in a sleepy, gruff voice.

  He tiredly smiled at John, who returned the face in kind. “Yes, yes it is, my friend!”

  “Then sign me up too, mon amis!” said a French voice behind Hercules.

  Lafayette bounded into the kitchen and hugged John, his demeanour giving off anything but sleepy, waking everyone else up too.

  Alexander chuckled at his friends’ antics, watching them as Lafayette helped John with the batter and Hercules fixed up the silverware and plates. He wondered, if he found his soul-mate, would happy early mornings like this be different? Would the added person be welcomed or shunned?

  Alexander was shaken out of his thoughts as two large, warm, beautiful pancakes were slapped down in front of him, just barely on his plate.

  “Bon appétit!” cried Lafayette, as he plopped down into the seat to Alexander’s right.

  “And if you don’t, we’ll have to give you to a psychiatrist, because John makes the best pancakes,” joked Hercules, nudging John in the ribs as he sat down opposite Alexander.

  John blushed, sitting on Alexander’s left, then said, “Oh, just eat your food!”

  Eventually, after all the pancakes (including the extras, Hercules ) were eaten and some playful banter was passed around, Alexander once again checked his watch, then said, “Well, I should be on my way. Any later and I run the risk of having Washington give me The Look™.”

  All four shivered at the thought of Washington’s ‘I’m-Not-Mad-Just-Disappointed’ look, which they had all, at one point, experienced, then the remaining three let the Treasury Secretary go with a few warnings of “You’d better eat lunch or else” and “Don’t get in too much trouble with Jefferson!”

  Once Alexander did finally make it to work, he made a beeline for the meeting room. He was two hours early (having told his friends a lie to get out of the apartment), but he liked to have the time to set up and make sure his arguments were valid. If there was even one mistake that his rivals could punch a hole through, he needed to fix the entire thing.

  A few of the other attendees trickled in before the Number One Problem of America strode in with a full attire of magenta.

  Thomas Jefferson looked, to all the world, like he’d just won fifty million dollars (though Alexander knew he probably had that type of money anyways). He strut in with the universe's most obnoxious grin, cane in hand and free hand on hip. The other senate and cabinet members gave him slight nods and smiles of acknowledgement, but Alexander just scowled at him. If Jefferson noticed, he didn’t react to it, until he sat down on the other side of where Washington would be seated, once he came in.

  “You know,” Jefferson stage-whispered in Alexander’s general direction, “if you want to make a good impression, I’d suggest gettin’ that scowl off your face. Washington wouldn’t appreciate it, would he, now?”

  “You know, I feel like I hear something,” said Alexander, mock-to himself, “I swear, it’s a bit like a buzzing sensation. Did you hear that, Mr. Jefferson?”

  Jefferson mirrored Alexander’s scowl. “Well, you don’t have to be rude about it.”

  “Why don’t you take your own advice and don’t be rude about anything ever again, Mr. Jeffersin ?”

  “See, the issue with you is that it’s incredibly hard for anyone not to be rude to you. How you ever made it to New York from that poor, ratty town you came from, I’ll never know.”

  “Hey, this has nothing to do about Nevis, you can just as well leave that place alone!”

  Jefferson smirked. “Oh, struck a nerve, have I? How should I continue, with your run-away father or your whore mother?”

  Alexander’s face flushed bright red, and he had to restrain himself from punching that smug look off of Jefferson’s face. Instead, he slammed his hands on the table, curled them into fists, then whispered, “How in the name of the everloving God do you know about my mother?”

  “Oh, it’s not hard,” said Jefferson with an evil grin. “Why, you just look up any community whore in the general area of - what was the name of that place, again? Oh yes, Nevis - and your mother comes right to the forefront.”

  Alexander’s restraint broke, and all the anger and loathing he had built up against the walking headache named Thomas Jefferson ran through his body as Alexander leaped out of his seat and succinctly broke Jefferson’s nose.

  In the few seconds it took for Alexander to really know what had happened, something like a floodgate broke, and he was overwhelmed by visions and memories not of his own.

  Not of his own? How could he be so sure? These thoughts, feelings and images seemed so vivid and real that they must have been his - no, His - own, for whom else's would they have been?

  Then He felt incomplete. He was simply one half of the whole, and He needed His other half. He could feel and see His other half, and He knew that once He held His other half, He would meld in and become one, become whole , again.

  His nose felt hot and bloody, and, for some reason, broken, yet at the same time, not . He leapt towards His other half and, as contact initiated, started to climb His taller, second half.

   Though , He thought, I'm not two halves anymore, I'm one.

  He started helping himself up His own body, and man , if that wasn't a confusing idea to wrap one’s head around. He was climbing Himself .

  A few voices called out names, like ‘Alexander!’ and ‘Thomas!’ but neither name sounded proper, neither fit . Neither were His names, not anymore, so He didn’t respond to them.

  Then someone called, “Alexomas, I'm afraid we’ve just cancelled the meeting, and you need to go home, okay?”

  The voice was deep and soft, as if it were trying to calm a scared animal.

  “N-name?” He mumbled, His voice unbelievably shaky and quiet.

  He looked at the offending voice with His brows ever-so-slightly knit. All of His emotions and ‘new’ experiences were smashing into each other, which made it impossible for Him to do anything but close in on Himself, as He struggled just to stay standing.

  A gentle hand came to rest on His arm as George Washington came into view. His voice was a bit muddled, all sounds were a bit muddled, but still definitely there.

  “I called you Alexomas, I hope that that is acceptable. Or, you could go by Jefferton, but I'd prefer your first name.”

  He, Alexomas , nodded, His two views of sight moving up and down slightly and slowly, still unsure about His sudden new mindset and sight. Someone lightly took Him by the arm.

  Somewhere, buried deep, deep down, in Alexander’s still, somehow, separate part of his mind, the part that contained his six worst and scariest memories that he had locked up for good, a teeny tiny, itsy-bitsy voice said, “Just my luck, I'm soul-mates with walking travesty Thomas freaking Jefferson.”

Chapter Text

George Washington had called for a meeting the previous day, and had tried to prepare himself for anything that might happen, but never in his wildest dreams did he ever think that he would walk in on Alexander Hamilton, his Secretary of Treasury punch his Secretary of State, Thomas Jefferson, and then latch onto him as if he would die if they were separated, while Jefferson aided him in his search for contact.

  Never, ever, did he think that the two Secretaries would be soul-mates.

  As Hamilton climbed up the front of Jefferson’s body, acting like each time he let go was the end of the world, he noticed that Jefferson’s nose was bleeding.

   So that’s how they found out , thought George.

  He sighed, then plastered on a smile. This was going to be fun. He had to somehow come up with a fused name for the two and get them home. Get Him home.

  Alexander and Thomas. What should they be together?

  A few of the other cabinet and senate members were calling out to the two, trying to get Jefferson's nose to stop bleeding, and, at one point, two of them called their names at just the right moment.

  He approached the pair cautiously, not sure how they would react. Jefferson was now holding Hamilton in one arm, the other being used as the pair’s left hand, and Hamilton held on with one arm, the other being used as the right hand. With both legs up and around Jefferson, Hamilton seemed to be carrying his weight, so to speak, so that Jefferson wasn’t doing all the heavy lifting.

  He took a deep breath, then said in a clear, calm voice, “Alexomas, I'm afraid we’ve just cancelled the meeting, and you need to go home, okay?”

  If George hadn’t been paying attention to the pair of soul-mates in front of him, he wouldn't have heard them say anything. As it was, though, he only just caught what they said.

  As he raised a hand for silence in the meeting room, they whisper-mumbled, “N-name?”

  The synchronised speaking was a bit unnerving, George had to admit, but the way the two looked at him identically as if he were a slight nuisance almost brought him to laughter. His two best workers, who respected him immensely, were looking at him as if he were a fly in their offices! (Though, any outward emotions were seriously dulled down to what they would normally make because of what was surely racing through their heads. George remembered his experience with it.)

  He gently put a hand on Jefferson’s arm, which was around Hamilton’s torso, and, as their eyes came into focus on him, he said, “I called you Alexomas, I hope that that is acceptable. Or, you could go by Jefferton, but I'd prefer your first name.”

  Slowly and shakily, in perfect sync, the pair, Alexomas, nodded. George took them by the arm, and led them to the exit of the meeting.

  When they reached the door, however, Alexomas shook His heads, and started backing away.

  “Come now, you tw- Alexomas, we need to get you home, you can’t work right now,” coaxed George, trying his best to be as fatherly and commanding as possible while still being gentle.

  Again, He shook His heads, not wanting to leave.

  “W-work… need… finish…” He mumbled.

  “No, that’s alright, I’ll send you your work at home, alright?” bargained George. He really couldn’t have the two soul-mates in the office at such an unstable Phase.

  Alexomas frowned, seeming to contemplate George’s words, and, after a minute, seemed to resign to the idea. He let George lead him to the President's private car, and got unsteadily into the back seat.

  Just as he was about to hop into the driver’s seat himself, he heard two voices calling him from across the parking lot.

  “Mr. President!”

  “Mr. Washington!”

  George looked up from the door to see Aaron Burr and James Madison coming towards him, their strides quick and almost nervous. They reached him, and specifically didn’t glance into the car.

  “Mr. President, will Mr. Jefferson and Mr. Hamilton be alright?” asked Burr, leveling his expression to be unreadable as he kept with formalities.

  Madison rolled his eyes, then said, worry etched onto his face, “Please, Washington, will Hamilton be okay? We,” he gestured to Burr and himself, “saw you three going down the halls, with Hamilton in Thomas’s arms. Is he sick, or injured? You know how Thomas can get when Hamilton’s not there to debate with him-”

  George put up a hand to silence Madison, then gently laid it on his shoulder. Burr shuffled in place, feeling awkward and out of place, not really knowing what to do and how to feel about his long-time friend and his short-time friendly coworker.

  “I think the two of them should be fine, they just need a bit of some time off. They’ve… made a revelation,” replied George.

  He watched as the realisation hit the two of them, making their faces twist in first something akin to awe, then pity-like worry.

  “I think the question still stands, though,” said Burr, now slightly peering into the President’s car, “will they be alright? And will they be coming back to work soon?”

  George looked between Madison and Burr, the former of which was looking more and more nervous by the second, and sighed.

  “To be honest with you, I’m not sure. You’ve read the papers, I assume, you’ve seen the studies on soul-mates. Heck, me and Martha took a while, with eight months! I’m sorry I can’t give you a straight answer, but… I just don’t know.”

  Madison and Burr glanced at each other, then back at George. They knew how close he was with Hamilton, they knew that the President needed his Secretaries of State and Treasury, they knew that the White House would never be the same without them present.

  “Er, sir?” Madison started. “Would you like one of us to come with you? Or both of us?”

  George looked up from where he had been holding the door, his worry dissipating slightly, being replaced by relief.

  “Both of you. Please. You’ll still be paid for today. Thank you,” he said haltingly.

  Then he turned back to the car, got in, and said, “But both of you can’t be shotgun, someone’s going to need to take care of Alexomas during the ride.”

(Shift in view, Madison’s POV)

After a quick two rounds of rochambeau, in which Burr destroyed James, Burr hopped into the passenger side, and James steadied himself for what he’d see in the backseat.

  He finally opened the door, and, as he slid inside, he was met with a sight he thought he’d never see in his lifetime.

  Jefferson sat with his legs crossed, his overcoat flowing under him and touching the floor of the car. He held Hamilton stable on his lap, pressing the smaller man into his chest with his right hand and holding him in the small of his back with the left. Hamilton had his right hand around Jefferson’s neck, keeping as close to him as possible, the other arm around Jefferson’s torso for support.

  The seatbelt was nowhere in sight.

  They both turned towards him in perfect sync, as they shifted to look at him properly. They held identical expressions of annoyance, until they seemed to focus on who was in front of them. Then, at the exact same time, they seemed to light up a bit, the joy of seeing James seeming to be spread across the two of them, neither more happy or excited than the other. The joy seemed slightly dulled, and had a tiny amount of the previous annoyance, but they gave off more positive vibes than negative.

  After the initial happiness of seeing James, they seemed to slip back into thought, curling into one another once again, sinking into the seat a bit and getting, somehow, impossibly closer together.

  It almost broke James’s heart to see his best friend like this. Almost.

  He had, in fact, read the newspaper articles. He knew that Thomas would (read: should and hopefully will) be happy after this. He just wished it wasn't Hamilton that was meant for him. The man hated him! They had made a daily routine of yelling at each other about the most obscure things even if it wasn’t in a meeting, and if it was a meeting, the two were sure to bash each other into the ground and make it seem completely normal. They had a knack for making their arguments feel like they fit.

  In fact, James mused, as the car pulled out of the White House and towards Monticello, he remembered a time when the screaming got so bad one meeting that Washington actually silenced both of them - quite loudly, he’d never seen Washington so red in the face - and ordered them to only communicate in whiteboards and sticky notes for the duration of the day. It was quite the sight to behold, watching his friend and his friend’s enemy silently scream at each other through tiny pieces of purple and green papers that were folded and thrown violently at each other. It was extremely hard to keep a straight face that day, and Burr beat them all at the silent competition that was held through the office.

  Now that James thought about it, it was quite a wonder that Hamilton hadn’t punched or otherwise touched Jefferson at all before this day. Actually, he'd noticed that Hamilton had specifically never touched anyone, ever . Even if he had been bumped into someone, he would screech in that way that only Hamilton could, then reprimand them on anything that came to mind.

  As the car pulled up to Jefferson’s huge estate, James suddenly wondered on if he had even shaken anyone’s hand, making the lack of contact seem nice. Was the lack of contact specifically because of Hamilton’s outspoken ideas on soul-mates, and their impact on the workplace? What about his friends, did they ever hug? There was once, in a very heated cabinet meeting, that Jefferson brought up Hamilton’s living arrangements, after Hamilton had thrown some shade on Jefferson’s personal life, nicknaming him ‘Jeffersin’. James thought that he remembered how many people Hamilton lived with, four other men, if he remembered correctly, but other than that, he had tuned out of the meeting when the name-calling came into play.

  The car finally came to a stop, and James sighed. There had to be a million things about Hamilton that he had not the slightest inclination of an idea about. He supposed that he would learn, however, through Jefferson and his rants about Hamilton. If he even still did those after this.

  James got out of the car, then helped the two soul-mates, Alexomas, if he remembered what Washington called them, out of the car and onto the pavement.

  It was quite the struggle, neither letting go to get out of the car, and neither moving faster or slower than the other.

  They kept mumbling things, sometimes sounding more like Jefferson, and sometimes sounding more like Hamilton. A few times, they apologised for a hurricane that happened somewhere, or for the loss of two whole siblings at birth.

  Eventually, they swayed and staggered into Monticello’s grand foyer, with a few hissed curses and whispered compliments. When they saw the expensive interior, for a second, they looked disgusted, but they turned that into a mild annoyance, with some aweing of the beautiful architecture.

  Washington bid adieu, saying he needed to get back to work and tell Martha what was up. He left James alone with Burr and Alexomas, and for a while, things went smoothly.

  Alexomas was placed in the bedroom, having stumbled there first, sitting on the bed with intimate contact, though never moving to do more than just hug. They would eat and drink at the exact same time, which unnerved James to no end. Burr would occasionally help with the water, but mostly stayed away from the two.

  James discovered that Burr was actually taking advantage of Monticello’s huge library. He contemplated letting Alexomas just be, without walking in on their intimate hugging to bring them a snack or water, and join the silent man. Or maybe he could convince Burr to stay with the pair with a few books he brought up to the room.

  Burr had shot down that second idea, his excuse of not wanting to be away from the huge library just not cutting it for James. The first idea was thought over by James, a lot, but he decided against it. He needed to be there for his friend, and this tricky time.

  Finally, dinner arrived, and with it, a knock at the door. Burr went to go get it, as James lined up two chairs for the two bodies that needed to sit in them. Burr came back with dinner (which was take-out, neither really wanting to cook tonight) and three men that looked to be about Hamilton’s age.

  The first one who came in looked strikingly like Jefferson, with fair dark skin, a beautiful brown eyes, but with his hair up, a rougher cut to his beard, and an extremely thick French accent. James understood him just fine, he seemed to learn English quite well, but he’d sometimes slip into French or curl something that wasn’t meant to be curled without meaning to.

  The next was a slightly larger man, who, by many standards, looked quite like James himself, though James was quite thin and sickly. He had a more wild look to him, all his clothes looking like they were hand-stitched, and deep, espresso skin. He had short, black, curly hair, and a seeming fire in his eyes, though worry was hidden in them too.

  The final one was smaller than the other two, though probably taller than Hamilton, (everyone was taller than Hamilton) with a face full of freckles and loosely curled black hair. He had more lighter skin, though he was by no means pale, and his deep brown eyes held a kindness and hope that only a close, close friend could ever bring forth in a person.

  As they caught sight of Alexomas, who didn’t notice them come in, their faces underwent that of complete shock, then neutral, as though trying to hide what they felt. The smaller man tore his eyes away from the couple first, then walked cautiously over to James and Burr, who were standing a respectable distance away.

  “Um, hey,” he started. He stopped, shook his head, then held his hand out.

  “My name’s John Laurens,” said the man, “and we’re Alexander’s housemates... and close friends."

  He gestured over to the remaining two, who looked sceptical. Burr took Laurens’ hand as the other two came over.

  “James Madison, and Aaron Burr,” said James quietly, going into cabinet meeting mode.

  “Hercules Mulligan,” said the James-esque one guardedly, giving his hand to James, who shook it.

  The Frenchman, instead of giving a normal introduction, decided to break the air of uneasiness, and in a fantastic flourish, he knelt on one knee, bowing quite deep. He then stood upright again, took both Burr and James’s hands, and kissed both as you would a lady you were trying to woo.

  James felt his face heat up as the Frenchman looked up with a disarming smile, then said, “Marie Joseph Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, Marquis de Lafayette, at your services.”

  James looked over at Burr and was startled to see that he was smiling, holding the hand the Frenchman had just kissed close to his cheek.

  Mulligan and Laurens accompanied the Frenchman in laughing at the shocked looks they received, after which Mulligan wheezed out, “Or, you know, just Lafayette!”

  Another round of laughing came forth, in which Burr and James gave a few chuckles.

  The noise seemed to have startled Alexomas out of His racing mind as He looked up from a spot on the table to the people in the room. His face, when seeing all His friends, lit up like the fourth of July, and He leapt as best he could from the chairs James had so carefully placed.

  “Guys!” He puffed out, both of His voices sounding almost overjoyed.

  The three newcomers gave one look at the pair, Jefferson holding Hamilton like he had before, and raced towards them.

  “Alex! How are you, buddy?” asked Mulligan, his voice full of mirth.

  The pair cocked their head, seemingly gaining more control of His body, and Burr spoke up for the first time since the three got there.

  “They actually seem to respond to Alexomas, or a fused name of Alexander and Thomas,” he said, carefully guarding any negative or positive emotions he might have had towards the name.

  Laurens shook his head, the ghost of a smile still on his lips, then he said, “Alexander always was a sucker for odd names.”

  Lafayette grinned, then pitched in, “Oh yeah, do you remember his pen names in college for the campus paper?”

  “Oh yeah!” crowed Mulligan. “Like Publius! Who names themselves Publius?"

  “Everyone knew it was him anyways,” said Laurens.

  “D-did not!” Alexomas cried.

  He was still standing, and had apparently been listening to the conversation. Despite themselves, everyone in the room laughed, as Alexomas got an indignant look on His faces.

  “I didn’t know this stuff!” said James as he calmed his breathing. “I guess this is a perk of being Hamilton’s friend!”

  “Oui, oui, it is!” laughed Lafayette.

  Alexomas huffed, then a smile crept onto His face, as though He’d made a joke to Himself, and said, “Yeah, but… remember the S-Summer Dance? Laf a-and Antoinette? Th-that was priceless!”

  Lafayette blushed bright red despite his dark complexion as everyone laughed, and said, “Hey, I thought we agreed never to bring that up again!”

  “Yeah, but Alexomas needed something to come at you with, and I doubt He remembers that arrangement, so…” said Laurens with a smirk.

  Lafayette smacked Laurens, and Mulligan put a hand on both of their shoulders.

  “Boys, boys, careful, now!”

  Then the smile ran away from his lips, and he said, “But seriously, the reason we came. We need to figure out living arrangements for… them. There are two houses, three, if Mr. Burr adds his, and one pair that we need to house. One or two of us will need to give up some space. Monticello has room, but there’s no one here, there hasn't been slaves here for centuries. He’d become lonely and would start breaking things. The Revolution Hub, or Alex, John, Lafayette and my domain, just barely fit the four of us, adding Jefferson would be hard, even if they are… erm, ‘one person’. And I'm not sure Mr. Burr, here, is willing to give up his home.”

  There was silence, and a sombre mood fell upon the group as Mulligan’s words rung through the room. The things he said were true, of course they were. None of the people in the room could deny those facts.

  Then Alexomas spoke up, to everyone’s surprise, and did what Hamilton did best. He voiced what everyone was thinking and what no one wanted to hear.

  “What if… I stay in my office? Then… I’d be calm, ‘n out ‘f the way.”

  For a second, no one tried to say no to that idea, then Burr burst out, “No, no way! That’s a horrible idea!”

  “Well, do you have a better one?” asked Laurens, who seemed resigned to the idea.

  “Well…” Burr trailed off.

  “He might not,” said James slowly, “but I think I might. You could stay here, Alexomas, in Monticello, and we can have daily visits, you know? We could have one of you guys, Laurens, Mulligan, or Lafayette, on one week, then on of us, me or Burr, and it wouldn’t be so hard to manage! Would that be okay to you, Alexomas?”

  They were met with a dual blank look from Alexomas, as he slowly and shakily sat down into the chair beside Him. He seemed to be thinking of something.

  Suddenly, the blank look broke into that of pure terror, as Hamilton fell from Jefferson’s grip. Jefferson’s muscles seemed to have given out, and Hamilton seemed unprepared. The pair had thought that they were strong enough to last a day of no breaks, but apparently they were wrong.

  Hamilton fell to the hardwood floor in front of the chair, screeching at the top of his lungs, as Jefferson’s voice failed him, his mouth moving up and down and his hands grasping at the air.

  As soon as Hamilton hit the floor, the two arched their backs as if in pain, (which made sense for Hamilton, not quite as much Jefferson) and the two flew into motion. Jefferson leapt from the chair and onto the ground, his overcoat getting caught on the chair, bringing it down with him. He flopped on top of Hamilton, and at some point, Hamilton’s voice gave out like Jefferson’s had. The two then gave another cracked screech of pain as the chair fell on top of them, and they struggled out from under it, Jefferson’s arms being too worn out to do much more than flail.

  Finally, one of the others in the room, who just so happened to be Lafayette, jumped into action, tearing the chair, and by accident, the whole bottom of Jefferson’s jacket, off and away from the damaged couple, and helped them into a sitting position on the floor. Jefferson now had both legs wrapped around Hamilton, his arms on the latter’s shoulders, and Hamilton had his entire being wrapped around Jefferson, trying to never let go again.

  When everyone regained their senses, Burr grabbed two glasses of water from the table, Mulligan and Laurens ran to grab a blanket, and Lafayette and James tried to sooth the ball that was their friends on the floor.

  They eventually got Alexomas to calm down, drink enough water to replace the sweat that they had lost, and be led to bed.

  “I think that’s enough excitement for tonight, wouldn’t you all say?” asked Mulligan as he trudged from the bedroom the five of them had gotten the couple to sleep in.

  They all nodded, and, after a minute of debate, James stayed in Monticello while everyone else went home, finally.

  James was now sufficiently worn out, and was almost begging for the sweet release of sleep that washed over him as he sat watch over Alexomas. He woke up in the morning to a pillow under his head, a blanket on his shoulders, and a neatly scrawled note on the desk in front of him.

Hey, Jemmy James,

I have spent enough nights at my desk writing and working to know that it isn’t comfortable to sleep on, and the neck pains are horrible, so I thought you might like a pillow. And you looked cold, so I gave you a blanket. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me. You’ve already done so much for me. Thank you.

Yours truly,

Alexomas

  It took a few tries on James’s part to fully understand what the note said, seeing as it was written in an even mix between Jefferson and Hamilton’s handwriting, but he finally processed what it said.

  He got dressed, noting the lack of dirty clothes, and headed downstairs.

  As he headed downstairs to where the kitchen was, he noticed that some of the curtains in the hall were torn down, and a few strips of fabric were laying here and there. He soon found out why as he entered the kitchen to the overwhelming smell of freshly made french toast.

  Apparently, Alexomas had realised that He needed to hold Himself better, so He had taken the curtains that He had passed by while getting up and used them to make a sling.

  Now, Hamilton’s body was pressed up against Jefferson’s back, his right hand sticking out to be used as the couple’s collective right hand, and had his head resting on Jefferson’s right shoulder. James couldn’t see Hamilton’s left hand or Jefferson’s right, and he figured they had them hidden between each other so as not to use them accidentally.

  As he walked in, he heard Alexomas saying things, and even giggling at himself.

  “I know that this’ll work, but I’m just going to need to change a few things, and- oh! Ahaha, yeah, that’s right, I forgot about that! I should introduce the whole cabinet to that idea, it’s perfect! I wonder if James and John would agree… probably, they’re my best friends, why wouldn’t they? Hah, of course, there are some flaws, but flaws can be overcome! And-”

  James cleared his throat, and Alexomas wheeled around, spatula in the air, eyes wide with shock. When He saw who it was, Alexomas physically relaxed, letting out a breath and smiling at James.

  “Ah, there you are!” he said, his voice sounding as if he’d been up all night. “I was wondering when you were going to wake up, sleepyhead!”

  He turned back around, and continued making the french toast, without the added outer monologue. James came up to His left, and tried his best at smalltalk.

  “So, um, Alexomas, do you have all of your… your memories?”

  Alexomas gave him a confused looked, and replied, “What do you mean?”

  “Like,” James stuttered, his face started to heat up from embarrassment, “er, do you remember breaking your wrist trying to impress that girl you liked in our old school?”

  Alexomas grimaced as he recalled the memory, both faces looking like they’d rather the memory disappear. “Yeah, I do... man, that was embarrassing!”

  His free hand came up to rub Jefferson’s neck, as both heads leaned into the motion, and James did his best not to shiver.

  “Or,” he tried again, “that time when you brought that mockingbird home, and named it ‘Dick’?”

  This got a laugh out of Alexomas. It was a barking, rough sound, but it somehow still sounded smooth and almost irresistible. The perfect mix of the two people in front of James was uncanny and unnerving.

  “Yes, I remember that!” wheezed the pair. “Anyone in that section of the campus got no sleep while Dick was there, he kept crowing!”

  James smiled at the memory, then looked down at the french toast. He was surprised to see that there was only one french toast being made, with no others on the counter or on the way to being cooked.

  “Um, Alexomas, you do intend to eat, right?” asked James.

  Alexomas’s laughter died down enough for him to give a straight answer.

  “No,” he replied, “I have to get to work soon. I have a few overdue projects, and three meetings in the morning.”

  James thought for a moment, contemplating this predicament. Jefferson did have an early morning meeting with a few senate members, and Hamilton always had more work going on than anyone else, so of course he had two early morning meetings. And, Jefferson had been taking more days off because of migraines, so he was a bit behind, far more behind than where Hamilton would ever let himself be.

  Before James could think of a refute to that, however, Alexomas put the plate on the table at where James always sat when he came over to Monticello, and, as he was leaving the building, said over his shoulder, “By the way, you guys own me a new overcoat!”

Chapter Text

As Alexomas got to work, (taking a taxi, as He still felt light-headed and jumbled in His thoughts) he started thinking.

  Why did He have two homes? Many people have two homes, but He never remembered getting more than one. Then again, He did have Monticello and Montalto, and technically those were two separate homes.

  As the taxi rolled up to the White House, He started thinking about the people in His life. He first met Lafayette during a workplace revolution in SafeWay about the pay and taxations. But, he also first met him in France when He’d been visiting for American Foreign Affairs.

  He frowned. That’s not possible.

  He’d been lifelong friends with John Laurens, and had never really known a good life without him, as they’d met in college, and had become inseparable. But, at the same time, He’d never met Laurens until last night, and had been close friends with James Madison, who’d always been there for Him, and had lived in the same neighbourhood.

  He’d always been close with George Washington, and even considered him a father-like figure, because His parents had left Him on Nevis, first when He was 5, then when He was 7, and Washington took Him under his wing. But, at the same time, He only considered Washington a boss who was too easy on His political rival, and never a father, because both of His parents were still alive.

  Then there was His own life story.

  He had been born in Charlestown, Nevis, one of the islands of the Caribbean. He’d been born poor, His father having spent the money and riches that His mother had had. He'd lived through His father running away and His mother dying, through a hurricane and too much death, until He was 19, when He’d come to America to seek a better lot in life when His island had brought up enough funds for Him to get an education. He’d made it through starving on the streets of New York City, He’d made it through being rejected from job after job, while He flew through his education. He’d even made it through being beaten and mistreated just for being an immigrant. George Washington had given Him a second chance, a real chance, and given Him the position of Secretary of Treasury, because he had seen how well He could perform when given the chance, he’d seen how loyal He could be, even if He was up against the most stubborn, annoying, tall kiwi He’d ever met.

  But at the exact same time, He’d been born and raised in Shadwell, Virginia, just outside of Charlottesville, and had always known the joy and beauty of money. He’d had multiple siblings, with which He’d grown up with, most of which were sisters, and two happy and healthy parents to take care of all of them. He’d always been destined for a great education, and had even been given early learning with tutors before He was 16. He’d had the joys of music, playing the violin in His spare time. Never in His life had He ever starved, and even if He was being ‘punished’ for doing something wrong, He would simply slip off to have dinner with the Madisons. He’d gotten jobs and more money easily because of His illustrious background, and had been given the job of Secretary of State by George Washington simply because He might have been smart enough to rival His boss’s seemingly adopted son, and because He had friends in high places. Washington needed the votes, He was able to get them.

  Somehow, through His disturbing thoughts and reflections, Alexomas found Himself in front of the Oval Office, and He quickly knocked, wanting some form of answer to the millions of questions flying through His head.

  He heard Washington call, “Come in,” from inside, and He quickly complied.

  Inside, Washington was sitting at his desk, a pile of papers in front of him, but as he saw Alexomas, he quickly filed those papers away and stood up, motioning for Alexomas to sit.

  “Why did you come to me so early, so- Alexomas?” Washington asked, catching himself before he could mess anything up.

  “Um,” said Alexomas eloquently, as He sat down with Washington in the chair that was offered, “I have a few questions… about some of my memories.”

  Washington seemed to stiffen for a second, then he said, “Continue.”

  “I-I just wanted to know, why do I remember two completely different lives? I know I’ve lived them, but which one? A person can’t life more than one life, especially not when the two are so completely different! And the people I know, like John, I know him so, so well, we’ve been friends since I came here at 19 years old, and yet, the first time I ever met him was last night, when everyone came over to visit at Monticello. And why do I have two houses? I realise that many people have two houses, but I do not remember buying such a huge estate, having lived with John, Hercules and Lafayette for the entirety of adulthood. But , I’ve always known Monticello, and Montalto, and I’ve been there for a considerably long time, seeing as my family has owned the two houses for generations. And I only know Lafayette because I went to France for Foreign Affairs, and I hadn’t even known of a ‘Hercules Mulligan’ until last night! At the same time, I’ve known Hercules since I went to college, and he has become one of the best tailors in the area! And, then there’s the fact of my college! I know I went to Columbia University, but I also know I went to William and Mary, down in Virginia! Sir, I don’t know why I’m so confused about this, I know I shouldn’t be, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m more than one person, which I know is preposterous, but I-”

  “Alexomas,” Washington cut off the rant. Alexomas immediately closed His mouth, and Washington got up and moved to be beside Him.

  Washington crouched down to be eye-level with Alexomas, specifically the right-hand view (Hamilton), and gave him a serious look.

  “I know things can be confusing, but you’re going to need to sort out these memories. This is one of the reasons why I want you to take time off and be by yourself. You need to be able to function properly at work, and if you keep getting distracted, you’ll only fall behind. I know that you hate taking time off, I know it makes you feel weak and needy, and that you’d much rather be surrounded by friends and coworkers to try and get through this, but you can’t distract others, and you need the time alone. Will you do this for me, son?”

  Washington let the last word slip out without thinking, but Alexomas didn’t seem to really notice. He was trying to process the words Washington had said, and when He finally did, He looked Washington in the eye and said, “But you need your Secretary of Treasury. State? Secretary of State… and Treasury. And I’m here now, so let me do what I came to do.”

  Washington sighed. Jefferson and Hamilton had always been stubborn, he should have expected a fight.

  “Son, you don’t even know which job you’re meant to do-”

  “I’m not your son,” stated Alexomas, his tone flat, as if reciting something He’d practiced many times before.

  He blinked at Himself, then mumbled, “Why did I say that?”

  “Alexomas, I just want you to stay home for a little while, alright?” said Washington. “I can send you some of the easier projects for you to work on, that aren’t as pressing, but I want you to relax, take a break.”

  “Sir, with all due respect, I have a duty that I must fulfill, and I’ll sort out these things afterwards. I shouldn’t have come to talk to you about this.”

  “No, I want you to talk to me about these things,” said Washington, sounding like a father about to lose his child. He cleared his throat, making his voice go back to normal, then continued.

  “Alexomas, just one week, that’s all I ask. Can you do that, son?”

  “I’m notcha son-”

  “Watch your tone. Can you comply with me for a month?”

  “I’m calm when I do work, you’ve seen me, I’m perfectly able to handle myself. You don’t have to father me, I have two perfectly able parents, Mr. and Mrs. Jefferson.”

  “I know, Alexomas. But take some of the work you need done home, and hand it back to me after you’re done the week. Please, son, do it for me-”

  “Call me son one more time!” yelled Alexomas, jumping to His feet.

  His eyes widened as He realised He shouldn't have overreacted. There was a pause pregnant with unspoken words, then Washington stood up from where he’d crouched, using his full height. He towered over even Jefferson’s tall frame.

  “Go home, Alexomas. That's an order from your commander.”

  “Sir-”

  “Go. Home.”

  The silence was deafening, as Washington stared down Alexomas. He knew He’d messed up, said the wrong thing, done the wrong action.

  Then, Alexomas turned, defeated, and walked to the door. He stopped, hand on the handle, and looked back.

  “Sir, I… never mind,” He whispered.

  As He stepped out of the Oval Office, He thought about why He’d burst forth so violently. He’d never done that to Washington. Never in His entire career. Why had He done that now?

Alexomas settled onto the couch in the living room near the front door with a laptop He’d found under the writing desk and the tv remote for the huge flat-screen tv. He hadn’t the faintest idea on what He was going to do, as He knew that Washington had probably banned Him from any work-related thing. He just wanted a distraction from the chaos that was running through His head.

  Then a knock came at the door, and Alexomas groaned. Why couldn’t He have time to wallow in self-pity? He was already banished from His happy place, why couldn’t He catch a break?

  He opened the door with His chin up and a creased brow to find Aaron Burr on His front steps. Alexomas must have looked imposing and angry, more so than what He meant, as Burr took a step back, raising his hands a little to show no violence was necessary.

  “Hey,” he said, lowering his hands, “Washington and Madison sent me to check on you. Knox also sent me, but for other reasons.”

  Alexomas sighed, then gave a small smile to Burr. Burr returned it in two-fold, then stepped through the door that Alexomas held open for him.

  “So, I heard, being the gossip of our senate, that you had a falling out with Washington. Is that so? And why?” asked Burr.

  He’d sat down at the bar in the kitchen, and turned in his seat to look at Alexomas.

  Alexomas sighed again, this one with a lot more resolve, then told Burr what happened.

  “And then he commanded me to go home. Simple as that. I couldn't refute the commander any time before, and I still can't refute the commander now. I wish he’d let me stay though, it’s like he think’s I’m incapable, because I’m slightly confused on my memories. I know all I have to do is get them right, again, I’ve only lived one life.”

  “Huh,” Burr hummed. “Do you strongly believe in what you said?”

  “Well, yes,” said Alexomas, “if I'm not anything, I'm strong in my words.”

  “Yeah, that's true. And you’d be willing to put these claims to trial in a court of law?”

  “Er, I guess.”

  “Because I can tell you right now, you aren't one person.”

  Alexomas balked at Burr’s words.

  “W-what could you possibly mean, Mr. Burr?” spluttered Alexomas, almost at a loss for words. “I am quite certain that I, with one conscience, am one person!”

  “Then your certainty is misplaced,” responded Burr calmly. “Have you checked in a mirror lately?”

  Alexomas blinked at the odd question as Burr patently waited for a response.

  “Well, no, I guess I haven't…”

  “Mh-hm,” Burr hummed.

  “But what's that got to do with anything?”

  Burr then pulled out his phone, typed something in, and showed Alexomas a selfie of himself with another man.

  “Do you know the guy I’m with? Because I’ve known him for a very, very long time, and I’ve saved this picture in memory of when we first met, in that bar a little ways down from the White House, before he had a job there.”

  The man was smiling like all the luck in the world was on his side, and he had his arms wrapped around an equally bright Burr, who seemed to have a fake grimace on his face while he took the selfie. The hugging man had strong, bright brown eyes, and wild, dark, almost black, shoulder-length hair. He was wearing a scrappy blue long coat that seemed to be a bit big on him, but he made it work. His skin was a smooth, sunkissed tan, and he had a goatee that was not quite fully grown. And for some reason, he looked extremely familiar.

  Burr continued without getting any confirmation from Alexomas.

  “He’s now Washington’s Secretary of Treasury, and a darn good one, if I’d say so. He does need to keep his temper in check way more often than not, but he’s amazing with a quill and words. He’s very literate.”

  Burr pulled back his phone, tapped it a few more times, then showed Alexomas another picture.

  “And do you know this guy I’m with here? Because I’ve only known him for a short-ish amount of time, but he’s been somewhat nice to me. He’s not the best, but he’s kind enough. This picture was taken by James the first time the three of us went on a trip. I believe we went to Canada.”

  The man beside Burr had an arm around the latter, and an almost smug grin on his face, while Burr had a polite smile, almost leaning into the man’s arm. The man wore a magenta business suit, and was apparently quite tall, tall enough to be a full two inches taller than Burr. He had a large, black, poofy afro haloing his head, and sly, deep brown eyes. His skin was definitely lighter than Burr’s, but most would still call him black, and he had a goatee/sideburn combo running his face. This man, too, looked extremely familiar.

  “He’s now Washington’s other Secretary; Secretary of State, (though there is always Henry Knox on Secretary of Defence) and he’s good at trying to keep things the way they are, with no change. He keeps rebutting plans that, specifically, our Sec of Treasury come up with, but that’s none of my business as to why.”

  Burr then put his phone away, watching Alexomas expectantly, and, getting no response that he liked, seemed to deflate, muttering, “I thought that would work,” under his breath.

  “Well, I guess there’s only one more thing for me to do,” he sighed.

  He hooked his arm under Alexomas’s left, ignoring the instant squeal of indignation from the latter, and pulled Him towards a bathroom. During this short trip, he asked again, “Have you seen yourself in the mirror lately?”

  Alexomas shook His head, only for Burr to yank Him faster into said bathroom. As they stepped into the rather large restroom, Burr spun Him towards the mirror.

  Alexomas gasped.

  It was the first time He’d seen His reflection since His memories got jumbled, and He was soaking in every detail.

  He was, in fact, two beings, two bodies, but one mind. When had this happened? When had He found His soul-mate?

  Then He remembered the punch that He’d flown at… Himself? He also knew why those pictures looked so familiar, why the people holding Burr seemed to click.

  They were Him. Before touching.

  “I-I’m… not me?” asked Alexomas. “I’m… we?”

  Burr nodded calmly. Alexomas was grateful for the persistent chillness of Aaron Burr, happy for the smooth calm that Burr always brought Him , especially now that His mind seemed to be breaking into fractions.

  Burr helped Him over to the toilet seat, with it’s lid down, and sat Him down, then said, calmly and slowly, “So, are you Alexomas, or are you Alexander and Thomas?”

  Alexomas stared into space for a second, trying to collect His thoughts, while Burr patiently waited for the response that was soon to come.

  Finally, Alexomas spoke. “We’re still… one, I think. The… Union Phase, I believe it’s called.”

  Burr nodded with understanding, and he straightened up. “Alright. Do you want me to tell others that you know you’re two… bodies, or shall I let you do the talking?”

  Another silence, then, “Let… me. Thank you, Burr.”

  “No problem.”

  And Burr left.

  For a while, the only thought Alexomas could think was Oh my lord I’m two people, I have two pasts, four arms, two heads, twenty fingers and an outlandish amount of hair.

  He then thought about His job, He was both Secretary of Treasury and State and Oh that’s why Washington sent me home with that excuse.

  Then He stood up, walked over to the bed in the room parallel, and promptly fell asleep at the foot of the bed, in the only way an extremely tired/overworked Hamilton or very drunk Jefferson could. His shoes started to slip off, but never fell, and his sling slipped, allowing Hamilton’s body to slide beside Jefferson’s, their faces close together.

  It was almost a fairytale picture, except for the fact that Jefferson’s right hand and Hamilton’s left hand were still locked together at an odd angle, tied together with shredded curtains.

Chapter Text

John Laurens got a call while in the middle of giving a patient a kidney transplant from Hamilton and Jefferson’s coworker, Aaron Burr, that said Alexomas was at Monticello by Himself, seemingly stunned, and in need of company.

  The timing couldn’t have been worse, and when he got to Monticello, Alexomas wasn’t even conscious.

  “Emergency my a**,” he muttered to himself as he stepped out of the bedroom.

  He went into the kitchen to make himself lunch, and sat down at the bar, not wanting to go back to work now that he was at Monticello.

  After a few minutes of rest, John was startled to see Hamilton standing in the hallway, by himself, looking like he was very, very lost.

  “Oh, Alexander!” he said in surprise, not wanting to startle him, but also wanting to get his attention. He gave Hamilton a small smile that the other did not return. “What’re you doing up? And where’s Jefferson?”

  Hamilton looked at John for a second, his eyes seemingly glazed over slightly, then he looked away, still looking lost. His eyebrows were quirked up from the bridge of his nose, and his lips were in a slight pout, almost as if he’d lost something. His shoulders were a little hunched, and his hands were clutching a blanket around him, making him look almost like a little child who’d just had a nightmare.

  John knew that look. He’d seen that look every time a strong thunderstorm came into town, or every time Hamilton hadn’t slept in a good seven days. That was the look Hamilton gave when his mind offered him flashbacks to the hurricane he lived through on Nevis, the look he gave when he remembered his mother dying, the look he gave when he thought about his suicidal cousin and runaway father.

  Now, it seemed, that look was for missing a piece of something he couldn’t find.

  After a moment of lazily looking around the room from the hallway, Hamilton mumbled something, his eyes closing slowly, then opening at the same speed.

  “I’m sorry, what was that?” asked John, stepping towards the smaller man.

  “Can’t… find… can’t… see…” mumbled Hamilton. Everything Hamilton said seemed to be slurred, like he was drunk.

  “Can’t find what, Alex? I’m sorry, I don’t quite understand.”

  “Other… half…” he mumbled after a second of thought.

   No wonder he’s taking forever to think , thought John, the whole other half of his mind is still asleep and upstairs.

  “Well,” started John, “I think I know where your other half might be, but you’ll have to follow me, is that alright?”

  But Hamilton shook his head, vigorously at first, then almost hesitantly. “ No! No…”

  John rushed to Hamilton’s side, not wanting the tired man to fall over, and held him by the shoulders. “Now why not?”

  “I… alone? With… you…” whispered Hamilton, swaying slightly.

  John chuckled a bit, then looked at Hamilton. “I know, it’s tiring being with the same person 24/7, but you’ve got to be strong. What if your other half wakes up? What will you guys think when you’re not together?”

  “‘M… fine… now…” muttered Hamilton, who seemed to be trying for a look of indignation. Key word was trying, as he was too tired and physically impaired to do much more that stumble around.

  “Yes, but that’s now. Come on, you need the sleep, let’s get you to bed.”

  Again, Hamilton shook his head, his whole body seeming to stiffen.

  “No. Jus’ need… coffee,” said Hamilton, as he blinked owlishly towards the kitchen that John had abandoned.

  It was John’s turn to shake his head now. “No, no coffee for you, you need rest.”

  “‘M gettin’ rest… upstairs! Still… half there… I th’nk…”

  “See? You can’t even rationalize-”

  “No! ‘M stayin’! Jus’… need coffee… ‘n company.”

  John sighed. He knew he was fighting a losing battle, he knew how headstrong Hamilton was when he set his mind to something. If any of Hamilton’s stories (read: rants) were to believed, as well, then so was Jefferson, and the pair of them, being so stubborn, would never go along with what John planned if they didn’t want to.

  “Fine, you can stay with me, you can even have some coffee, but don’t blame me when you start freaking out when you find you’re not together and you’re so far apart, okay?”

  Hamilton seemed to brighten up, his whole demeanour seeming to lighten. His shoulders straightened slightly, and his eyes widened a bit as though he were waking up.

  “Th’nks!” slurred Hamilton in a slightly louder voice.

  He then dropped the blanket and wobbled over to the coffee machine in the kitchen while John once again settled into the bar stool.

  “Hey,” he said after a moment’s thought, “how did you even know I was down here in the first place? I’m pretty sure you were asleep when I saw you in your bed!”

  “C’n tell… if… ‘m not alone,” replied Hamilton, shakily pulling out the coffee grinds from somewhere under the counter.

  “Huh,” John nodded, “but if your other half is still asleep, then you can’t tell where they are?”

  “Yea, somethin’ like that…” mumbled Hamilton as the machine started to drip coffee into the pot.

  “Okay… what about if you’re awake, though? Like, if you were both awake and able to feel and see, would you still not tell where the other is?”

  Hamilton shook his head as he tried his darnedest to get his small and frail frame up the counter to get a mug. “No… then I know… where half is…”

  He finally got up, much to John’s amusement, and got a mug. He then hopped down, which almost resulted in him smashing the cup on the floor, and took the pot of coffee. In place of the now half full pot, he placed the mug, so that he could drink straight from the warm pot.

  “Uh, no,” said John, when he realized what Hamilton was doing. “You’re not drinking from the pot, use that mug or something!”

  He stood up from the stool and made to grab Hamilton’s arm with the pot in it, but Hamilton pulled away, and chugged the pot.

  John stared wide-eyed at Hamilton as the smaller man finished the last sips in a couple of seconds, then sighed. “Wow, okay, now I know how you make it through 9 pots of coffee a day.”

  “Do n’t!” said Hamilton in as loud a voice as his worn out voice box would allow.

  “Do too!” replied John. “Remember, I work at the coffee shop you love to go to, and man, do you visit often! Every evening, right after work, which is always 11:00 at night, two cups, straight black.”

  Hamilton was about to reject that when he stiffened.

  “Oh, and here’s Jefferson,” said John, looking once again to the hallway entrance to find a haggard-looking Jefferson.

  His hair was a mess and he was still wearing the same outfit he’d worn the day before, torn coat tail and all, (same as Hamilton) but he looked substantially more well-rested.

  Hamilton almost teleported to beside Jefferson, and immediately, there was a sling on Jefferson’s back that Hamilton hopped into, the two locking their ‘unused’ arms where they had before. It was almost like watching a magic show at two times the normal speed on tv.

  The pair was back to being perfectly in sync, and when they turned their attention back to John, they spoke at the same time, sounding a whole lot better than Hamilton had a minute ago.

  “Oh, dear, John, that was embarrassing! Thank you, by the way.”

  “Er, yeah, no problem,” said John, not entirely sure how to talk to the soul-mates.

  He was used to Hamilton, at least he was his friend, but Alexomas… He wasn’t Hamilton, He was Hamilton and Jefferson, now.

  John shivered, then tried to put his uneasiness away as he went towards Alexomas to give Him a… good afternoon? He’d usually give Hamilton a hug before the Secretary of Treasury had to run off to his job, but John wasn’t sure Alexomas was allowed at work right now, and he wasn't sure the pair was comfortable with being touched by others.

  Either way, Alexomas took initiative, and yanked John into a tight hug, probably more tighter than both Hamilton and Jefferson would normally do.

  John squeaked in surprise, then hugged him back with a smile. “Good afternoon!”

  “Good afternoon!” replied Alexomas.

  John then backed up and stood in front of Alexomas.

  “I'm assuming you're not allowed to go back to work, right?”

  Alexomas nodded. “Yeah, Washington wants me to figure things out. But Burr helped me do that, and I think I'm ready!”

  John pinched his lips, the said, “I don't know, I think you need a few more days, just in case. And, you can catch me up! What'd I miss?”

After a good chunk of the day had been wasted on Alexomas telling John all about what it was like being soul-mates with someone, John got a call from emergency saying they needed him for a surgery.

  “I’m sorry, Alex, but I’ve got to go, they’ll never let me off the hook for this one,” said John, already most of the way out the door.

  “Bye, John, come back soon!” was Alexomas’s reply.

  As the door closed, Alexomas sat in silence.

  He soon started thinking. Would He still have the same fears as before? He, Jefferson He, hated public speaking, He couldn’t stand the attention and the stage fright. And He, Hamilton He, couldn’t stand thunderstorms, they reminded Him too much of the hurricane on Nevis. Oh well, just deal with it, He thought to Himself. He’d probably have to go to therapy for His fears, for neither mind was scared of the same things. That could get confusing, going to therapy for Hamilton’s mind and having to take Jefferson’s mind with him.

  That brought up another thought. Alexomas, for the life of Him, couldn’t remember His relationship with Himself. Had they been friends or foes? Were they in some form of relationship before they touched? And why had they only just then, after at least a few years, touched, and not before?

  Alexomas also had a nagging suspicion that at least half of Him had been very against soul-mates before becoming Him.

  After a couple minutes of thinking, He got a call.

  After a second’s thought, and He picked up the phone and put it on speaker. “Hello?”

  “Hello, is this the Monticello Mansion?” asked the voice on the other side.

  It sounded scratchy and rough, the type of voice you’d expect a smoker or serial killer to own. It seemed to belong to a middle aged man, from what Alexomas could tell from the pitch.

  Alexomas thought for a second, then replied.

  “Yes, this is Alexomas Jefferton, to whom do I owe the pleasure of speaking to?”

  There was a silence on the line, then the voice laughed, making Alexomas shiver.

  “Oh, I’m sure the pleasure is all mine. You can call me J.R.”

  Then there was a knock at the door, and the man on the line laughed again.

  “You wouldn't want to keep your guest waiting, now, would you, Alexomas?”

  The caller then hung up, and the knocker knocked louder. Alexomas put His phone in His pocket, worried about what was to happen.

  As He opened the door, He was met by a beautiful woman leaning against the frame. She wore a revealing red dress that would generally be unacceptable in public, bright crimson lipstick, and her hair all on one side of her head.

  She seemed startled by Alexomas, and even looked past Him into Monticello.

  “Are… you alone?” she asked.

  Alexomas nodded silently, unnerved by how she was dressed.

  The woman nodded, seemingly trying to sort out her thoughts, then said, “Well, in that case… I'm so sorry, Mr. Secretary- Secretaries.”

  Alexomas frowned as she reached into the back pocket of her dress.

  “What do you-”

  “Please don't hate me after this,” interrupted the woman, covering what she brought out from her pocket, “it’s not my idea. I hate him for doing this, I’m so, so sorry. I’m Maria Reynolds, by the way. The guy who called you is my husband, James Reynolds. Anyways, hold still.”

  As Alexomas started to back up, reaching for his phone, Maria shoved her hands, and by extension a cloth dosed thoroughly in chloroform, into both faces.

  Alexomas screeched, falling backwards and away from Maria’s hand. She raced to beside him, kicking the door closed with her heels, hands still full of the chloroform rags, and started tying one onto Hamilton’s face.

  All of Alexomas’s hands came up to get her away from Him, but she quickly knotted it around His head with a constrictor knot, and moved to the next. Hamilton’s arms became weaker and weaker as his side of Alexomas’s combined mind lost consciousness. Soon, Jefferson was on his own.

  “Wh-what do you want?” he gasped around the gag that Maria had tied around his head, as he fought against the darkness that was starting to creep up around his vision.

  Maria smiled sadly, pinning Jefferson’s hands down to his side with her own. “I don’t want anything. Like I said, it’s not my idea. I’m so, so sorry. Also, I’m going to give you a warning, James is going to separate you, so be prepared, okay?”

  Jefferson, not quite understanding what was going on, just nodded dumbly, as his eyes slowly started to feel heavy.

  Finally, Jefferson couldn’t fight it anymore, and his last thought was I should have called someone, now they’ll never know until it's too late.

Chapter Text

Aaron Burr sat at his desk like always.

  He pulled out a paper to work on, a new Word document, and a fresh pen, like always.

  He sat at his desk and performed his duties as Senator for New York as best he could in the short amount of time he had before his first meeting. Like always.

  The one major and crazy thing that changed, however, happened during the meeting, which was with the senate and the cabinet, minus Jefferson and Hamilton, debating on who should take the pair’s places while they were away. A phone call came in on Aaron’s personal cell, which was normally on silent, and he stood up to take the call. But so did half the senate, President Washington, and James Madison (who had been previously blocked by Patrick Henry to get into the senate, but who won Washington’s favour).

  Aaron frowned. That half of the collective assembly gathered in the room would stand to take a call they were just getting at the exact same time was, by all standards, not normal. It was not like always.

  Washington frowned as well, and Aaron caught his attention, once all the now-standing men had declined the call

  “Sir,” he said from where he stood, “I think one of us should take the call and put it on speaker.”

  Washington nodded. “I was just thinking the same thing, but now that that’s over-”

  He was cut off by another round of phones going off at the same time, but this time, everyone in the room stood up, as an indicator of who was getting called.

  Madison raised his phone up before anyone could tap answer, and answered himself. Everyone went dead silent in the room, the standing men sitting down, and Madison put his phone on speaker.

  “Hello?” he asked. His voice seemed to cut through the suddenly tense air like a knife through butter.

  There was a second of silence, then a voice came from the other end.

  “Yes, hello, cabinet, senate, Mr. President, what a pleasure it is to be speaking to all of you!” the voice said. It was unmistakably male and sounded like it belonged to a chain smoker or someone who’d just gotten surgery on their voice box. It unnerved Aaron to no end.

  Madison put the phone on the table as Washington motioned for security to track the call.

  “We’d like to skip the small-talk, sir,” replied Washington, his tone hard and gruff, “we are currently in the middle of a meeting, and your call was unexpected. To whom do we owe this inconvenience?”

  There was gruff chuckling from the other end, then the voice said, “Oh, but I bet you’d have plenty of time for your dear Secretaries of Treasury and State!”

  Washington’s eyes narrowed as the security finally started tracking the signal. The phone seemed to move away from the caller’s mouth as he called to someone, “Hey, little man, would you like to talk to your papa?”

  Suddenly there was the sound of a slap, and a scream and a cry from what sounded like two new voices. Aaron jumped up, covering his mouth with his hands, his chair toppling behind him. Madison’s eyes widened, and he too covered his mouth. Washington seemed to scowl.

  “There, you’re on speaker!” said the voice, as a new voice, a woman’s came on.

  “What are you doing, J? This wasn’t part of the plan, you never said anything about tou-”

  “Shut up, Maria!” yelled J, gaining a yelp from the woman, Maria.

  Washington stood up, and said in an extremely commanding voice, “What are you doing? As President of the United States, I demand you to tell me why you have interrupted this meeting!”

  That just got a another chuckle from J. There was the sounds of someone getting up, some footsteps, and the scraping of chair feet across the floor, as though the chairs were weighed down by something very heavy.

  “Ooh, ‘As President of the United States’, huh?” mocked J. “Well, little man, won’t you answer him?”

  There was a groan, then a very familiar voice whispered into the phone.

  “G-George?”

  It was now Washington’s turn to cry out. “Alexander! Alexander, are you alright? What have they done to you? Son, answer me, have they hurt you?”

  “Oh, Mr. President,” laughed J, “I’m afraid that your dear little Hamilton is about to be put under a lot of stress! It was such poor judgement on your part to let him work such long hours when he should have been at home sleeping, but, I guess you can’t change the past, huh?”

  “What do you want with them?” asked Madison, his normally soft voice harsh and commanding.

  “Oh, just a couple things,” said J nonchalantly. “First off, I want some money. Good ol’ ransom, you know? Then, I want Washington to resign. I just don’t like how you run the country, you know? Besides, gotta make this interesting somehow, see you scramble. Then, I want you to choose.”

  The room got somehow even more tense, if that was even possible, and Washington asked, slowly and carefully, “What do you mean, choose?”

  There was the sounds of the phone on the other end being placed somewhere, and then the sound of a cry. “Washington! D-don’t do it! Don’t… don’t go, don’t follow through!”

  “Thomas!” yelled Aaron and Madison at the same time.

  “No…” whispered Madison, Aaron only just being able to hear him.

  “I want you to choose between this intolerable, drama queen Secretary of State, your tall, fluffy haired bunny, Jefferson here,” said J, “or your precious son, you’re one and only Secretary of Treasury and Master of Malnutrition, the talkative Hamilton, over there. Can you do that for me? Pretty please? Because, I wouldn’t want to kill off the favourite, now, would I?”

  There was a collective gasp that went around the room, and Maria spoke up from the other side of the line. “J-James, you said you wouldn’t hurt or touch them!”

  “How dare you speak up, woman!” screeched James, and again the sound of a slap came from the phone.

  He turned his attention back on the phone, and said, “You have four days. If none of what I’ve asked comes to pass, they both die. If all but one or two come to pass, then you have an extra day until they die. Now, run, little rabbits, run!”

  With that, James hung up, and the meeting room was left with a nervous, tense energy. No one wanted to move first, but finally Washington cleared his throat, looked at the security with a hard gaze, and said, “Well?”

  “O-oh, right, sir, we, uh, found where the signal was coming from, sir, but it’s not in Washington, or Virginia, for that matter,” said one of the security men there, clearing his throat, “it, uh, actually came from Phoenix, Arizona, sir.”

  Washington’s face screwed up into a tight frown, and said, “We are getting them back, both of them, and I, for one, will not rest until we do.”

  “Darn it!” exclaimed Aaron. “Senator Madison, how long has it been since someone last went to check on Alexomas?”

  Madison jumped at the calling of his name, then sighed. “I think it’s been since yesterday. I remember Dr. Laurens calling me saying he’d just seen Him in Monticello, safe and sound.”

  “Well, they’re not safe and sound now, are they?” said Henry Knox, speaking up for the first time. His words were trailed by a few mumbled agreements. “So? We’re going to have to think of something. Mr. President, what’re your ideas on this?”

  The room was silent for a few seconds, then Washington said, “We need a FBI team out there, have them undercover and ready for if things get ugly. I want constant updates on what’s happening.”

  He looked directly at the security man and said, “What’s your name, sir?”

  “Oh, uh, A-Arnold, sir, Benedict Arnold.”

  “Well, Mr. Arnold,” said Knox, “can you find out exactly where this signal is coming from? Or will the FBI team need to figure that out? Because we can’t just be sent on a wild goose chase in the middle of Arizona.”

  “Er, I’m not sure I can do that, sir,” said Arnold, looking very out of his element.

  “Then get someone who can!” erupted Madison, his stone cold eyes flashing with fire as he stared at Arnold. “We will find these two, and we will bring them back safely, or, so help me, all of you will regret it!”

  Arnold seemed to shrink in on himself as Aaron closed the gap between him and Madison and leaned down into the angry Senator’s ear. “It’s alright, James,” he mumbled, as Madison sighed and put his face in his hands, “we’ll find them, it’ll be okay.”

  “But what if we-” Madison’s voice cracked off through his hands, and he took a stabilizing breath. Aaron put a hand on his back. “What if we don’t, Aaron? What if they’re- what if I lose my closest friend?”

  Aaron sighed, then straightened up again, tuning back into the conversation.

  This was going to be a long day.

There was a crushing silence and a pitch black room all around Him.

  He took a deep, shaky breath in, the let it out. He felt incomplete, but He didn’t know why. His hands were tied - all of them - and He couldn’t move His feet. In fact, He couldn’t feel His entire bottom half.

  Oh, that’s why. He was separated, He couldn’t reach His other half. Why not? Maybe because of the sleeping drug that woman had put on His face.

  He felt weak. Why was He here? Why did whoever kidnapped Him chose Him?

  Probably to strike at the President, that’s the most logical explanation. And to hurt Him, obviously.

  Then suddenly all of His emotions and feelings came crashing down on Him as the lights flicked on and a man stood between Him and His other half. He couldn’t tell which half He was, but the man was separating Him and that’s all that mattered. There was that woman off to the side, but anything out of His direct line of sight didn’t seem to matter as much. He started to panic, and His eyes went wide, the horrible, cold darkness at the edge of His vision still there.

  He got two views of the man, and from what he could tell, this man was homeless, or at least rather poor. He wore a long coat and a wide-brimmed hat. Was this the man that woman who kidnapped Him was talking about? He couldn’t tell, His mind was so scrambled.

  The man was talking, and, with what muted noise He could hear, He could tell the man was talking to something. To what? Only whoever or whatever he was talking to knew.

  His eyes started to droop again, but He was violently shaken out of the idea of rest when a sharp pain slashed across His face.

  He cried out, one half of Him sounding more like a scream. Why was He so out of sync? Was it the separation? It must have been, separation was always bad.

  Then there was a familiar voice next to His ear, and one half of him choked out, “G-George?”

  He could hear Washington’s voice, but it was scratchy, as though it were coming through an old pay phone. He couldn’t make out words, but from Washington’s tone of voice, he was worried.

  Worried about what? There was nothing to worry about, He just needed to get back to His other half.

  There seemed to be some confusion on the line, then the man had whatever he was talking to back near Him. This time His voice came out a little stronger, as though He’d had more rest with one side. Odd.

  He said, “Washington! D-don’t do it! Don’t… don’t go, don’t follow through!”

  He don’t know why He said that, it just seemed fitting. After all, He was kidnapped, right? I guess that’s something to panic about, He thought. So He panicked a little. Not a lot, just a bit to widen His eyes.

  Then suddenly He was dropped back into darkness, and the sleep that had been clawing at His vision the whole time took over until He couldn’t fight it anymore.

There were times when Elizabeth Schuyler hated her job. This was one of those times.

  She was now on the case, as an FBI agent, and as leader of her team, to find and rescue Alexander Hamilton, Secretary of Treasury, and Thomas Jefferson, Secretary of State.

  She herself had personal ties to this case, as Hamilton used to be someone she dated back in college. But Eliza didn't take this case just so she could save her college love, no, she was doing this to save a the US’s first case of the Treasury Secretary and State Secretary being soul-mates.

  Call her gushy, but she thought that it was cute the two turned out to be soul-mates. She’d heard the rumours about Hamilton and Jefferson being moral political enemies, screaming at each other any chance they got, though she had never seen that claim in action. And now they were in mortal peril.

  Yeah, sometimes she hated her job.

  As she stepped off the plane with her team (which included seven people, Eliza’s sisters, Angelica and Peggy, the new girl named Sarah “Sally” Hemings, their tech control Benjamin Franklin, the President’s wife, Martha Washington, Charles Lee, and a guy named Hercules Mulligan, who was a tailor on the side) and into Phoenix, Eliza imagined what sort of horrible thing the kidnappers could be doing to the pair of soul-mates.

  Eliza shivered, then followed her team into the airport. Mrs. Washington, or Martha, as she convinced them to call her, seemed to be trying to not be as controlling as she was as First Lady, though Hemings kept calling her ‘ma’am’ or ‘missus’, and Martha kept using a forceful tone to say, “Just Martha will do.” Lee and Mulligan were having a rather intense whisper argument about honour and battle, of which Eliza did not want to be a part of and Angelica, Peggy and Franklin had decided to pester each other and were thus poking each other into oblivion. So far so good.

  The group was greeted by some service employees, who escorted them to two blue toyotas, and as they packed their bags and suitcases, the employees bowed to them and made themselves scarce.

  Eliza hopped into the driver’s seat of the first toyota, taking Franklin, Hemings and Mulligan, then turned on the radio by the steering wheel.

  “Okay, team, let’s get this show on the road,” she said. Franklin whooped, and from the radio, Angelica and Peggy cheered. The others in the car smiled.

  “Alright,” said Martha from the other car, “first order of business, where are we going, and what do we do when we get there?”

  “I believe we have a hotel marked off, but we might want to scout around first,” said Mulligan, gaining a thinking look on his face.

  Eliza chuckled. He’d always put that face on whenever Hamilton had done something stupid or started a dating relationship. It was like he always knew Hamilton’s ships would burn and sink.

  Shaking out of her thoughts, Eliza nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good idea, Agent Mulligan.”

  “Ooh, so official!” he crowed. “I like it, coming from you, Eliza! Oh, remember calling me Sew Boy before you knew my name, back in college?”

  Eliza, Angelica, Martha, Franklin and Peggy laughed, gaining a small chuckle from Lee, who’d shut his mouth after Mulligan had torn a strip off of him. Eliza shook her head.

  “Guys, guys, keep to the topic at hand! Gracious, you’re going to make us lose this case! But, in all seriousness, what needs to happen? We need a plan.”

  The car took a sombre mood as everyone thought again about why they were in Phoenix in the first place. Lee coughed a bit, and Eliza could practically see Peggy shifting in her seat to see her sister’s car in front of her.

  “Well,” said Franklin with hesitation in his voice, “like Mulligan said, we should scout this place out, see where we’ll be hitting once we get rid of our luggage. If we play our cards right, we might just be able to catch someone doing something.”

  Hemings, from the back seat, finally spoke up for the first time, and said, “Here, I’ve pulled up a map of Phoenix, and where our intelligence is leading us. I can send it to all of the team members, if you’d like, Agent Schuyler.”

  Peggy snickered, then said, “Which ‘Agent Schuyler’? You can just call us by our first name, there’s three of us, Hemings!”

  Hemings seemed to grow flustered, so Eliza shot back at Peggy, “Hey now, she’s new, how’s she meant to know we prefer our first names? Give her a bit of slack, Pegleg.”

  “Yeah, yeah, alright, alright, whatever, sis o’ mine,” said Peggy.

  “Oh, be nice to your sister, Peggy, or I’ll use your real name,” threatened Angelica. Peggy squeaked out something, and Angelica made a noise between a scoff and a snicker.

  “Ladies, are you two done?” asked Martha with faux annoyance. “We’ve been keeping our leader for long enough.”

  “Yes, thank you, Martha,” Eliza responded, looking apologetically to the others in the car. Franklin gave her a quick, reassuring thumbs-up, as did Mulligan, and Hemings nodded serenely.

  Eliza nodded back to Hemings, as she tapped quickly on her phone. A little ding from Eliza’s hip told her that Hemings sent out the map and she smiled, then turned in her seat to face the front. Firing up the engine, she rolled out and away from the airport, followed closely by the other blue car. On their way to the hotel, they passed by one of the suspected buildings, from where the White House security had tracked the phone signal. It seemed abandoned, and it gave Eliza the chills.

  They made it to the rather large Embassy Suites that the government had booked for them, and, as the security and bellhops helped them with their luggage, checked in and found their room. They’d had a rather long day, and Eliza was ready to call it a night.

  Tomorrow, they’d be up and at this case. Tomorrow, they’d find Hamilton and Jefferson safe and sound and return back to Washington, to let things continue on as always.

  Tomorrow, they’d put a crazy man behind bars.

Chapter Text

Hercules Mulligan had always thought it was a myth that the First Lady of America was also part of the FBI, but every day you learn something new.

  As he watched Martha make her way around the perimeter of the suspected building, followed by Hemings and Peggy, he wondered how she could possibly hold two unimaginably stressful jobs. His best guess was because she was tough , if the stories of her and Washington were to be believed.

  As he made his way towards the front door, gun just in his reach, he heard a scream from inside. This must be it , he thought.

  Just as he was about to knock, the door flew violently open, and a man wearing a long coat and wide-brimmed hat stood in the doorway with a rifle in his hand and a crazy look on his face.

  “What’d y’all wanna com'n storm up an’ break in?” the man yelled at Hercules with a thick accent, waving his rifle in the air.

  Hercules backed up, going into a more fighting stance, then said, “P-pardon? Sir?”

  “You shouldn’t a com’n here, causin’ a ruckus an makin’ a scene, thin’ there ta be a murder, pro’ley, don’ need your type round here, so scoot!”

  Hercules frowned at the man, then carefully dug inside his breast pocket for his badge to show him. “Sir, I’m with the FBI, we’ve been told there’s a hostage situation going on in your home, and if you don’t let me in and check out the situation, you will be charged with assisting this crime.”

  “Hostage situation? FBI?” the man asked in a lot less of wild American accent.

  He cleared his throat, then spoke in what seemed to be his normal form of speaking, with an Austrian curl.

  “Sir, I don’t know what information you got, but I am not holding anyone hostage here, you probably have the wrong address. And that scream was a defence mechanism, nobody comes up to a house after a scream.”

  Hercules put his badge away, narrowed his eyes, then said in a strong voice, “Then you wouldn’t mind if I checked inside, now, would you?”

  The man shook his head, and opened the door wider. “Lead the way, officer.”

  Hercules gave the man a confused look, then asked, with more trepidation, “What’s your name, sir?”

  “Uh, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, but my friends just call me Wolfy. Why, are you looking for someone? I could give you names if you need them, I’ve got connections.”

  Hercules looked back at Eliza, who stood behind him on the sidewalk. Mozart followed his gaze, though said nothing. She seemed just as confused as Hercules felt, and he heard the pop of the tiny radio in his ear turn on.

  “I don’t know what’s going on with him, but we’ll send two people into his home, including you, Herc, and have a few on watch, in case he tries anything,” she said, making it look like she was talking a call on her phone.

  Mozart seemed to be waiting for a response, so Hercules followed Eliza’s directions and said, “Yeah, I, um, I just need to come in to see, make sure you’re word is to be believed. One of my team members will be joining me, you don’t mind?”

  Mozart furrowed his eyebrows and gave a small, crooked smile. “‘You don’t mind?’ Yes I mind, but that doesn’t matter, now, does it, officer?”

  Hercules gave a small smile in return, letting out a small puff of a laugh at the man’s dry humour. “No, it really doesn’t. Sorry, Mr. Mozart, but I assume you have nothing to hide? That’s good.”

  As Angelica stepped out of one of the two blue toyotas on the other side of the street, coming towards Mozart and him, Hercules stepped inside.

  Immediately, Hercules was hit by the impression that this man really loved music.

  He had two keyboards off to the right side of the small living room that the front door opened into, both of which looked very well used, leaning against the wallpapered wall, and a very impressive Grand Piano set up beside those, which must have taken at least four people to move into it’s spot. Beside the dining table in the next room, there sat what looked to be a cello case, which Hercules could only imagine held a real cello, and a violin case, with extra silver embellishment on it. A couple flute cases were on the bar in the kitchen, one of them open revealing the small, high-pitched silver instrument. There was a trumpet without it’s case laying on one of the dining room chairs, and two trombones were hung on the wall next to a hallway, probably leading to the bathroom and bedroom. Hercules guessed there were more instruments down that hallway.

  “Well?” asked Mozart, going over and sitting on the couch in the living room, sighing a bit as he sat down. “Is this to your satisfaction? I think I would have noticed a hostage in my own home.”

  Angelica came in as Hercules continued to look around, and she sighed of joy when she laid eyes on the beautiful instruments. “Well, we know what your passion is.”

  Mozart chuckled. “Yeah, that’s my income right there.”

  Hercules nodded towards Angelica, who instantly started a conversation with Mozart, questioning him about this and that, as Hercules slipped down the hallway. He had little doubt that this Mozart dude was actually innocent, but there were other things that Hercules would like to check about this man, and he said he had 'connections' that Franklin could use.

  As he came up on the bathroom, Hercules noticed a bedside table at the end the hallway, littered with papers and numbers. He silently walked up to the small surface and rooted around the papers. On one of them, the name ‘James. R’ was written, with a ten-digit number written beside it. An address was quickly scribbled below, with the words ‘Play for their ‘fun’ on vio - Tues’ scrawled under that.

   Bingo , thought Hercules, as he took the paper, folded and slipped it into his breast pocket, going back into the living room.

  “...about that, though? There’s nothing you could add?” asked Angelica, Hercules only catching the tail end of what she had asked.

  “Yes, ma’am, I am very sure,” replied Mozart, glancing up at Hercules. “If you need anything else…?”

  “No, I think that that’s all,” Hercules announced.

  He dug into his side pocket and pulled out a card. He handed it to Mozart, saying, “Call me if you have any information that would help us. That’s my personal number, so don’t go blowing it up. Thank you for your time, sir.”

  As Angelica and Hercules came out of Mozart’s home, Martha slid into step beside them, being tailed by Hemings and Peggy. They reached the cars, Eliza getting into the driver’s seat of the first one, and Hercules followed. Franklin was already in the back seat, still setting up two computers in the back of the car as Hemings slid into the seat beside him.

  “Getting pretty intense back here, hey, Agent Franklin?” asked Hemings with a bit of a laugh.

  “Oh, just Ben, Sally, we’re on the same team, and in the privacy of the car,” replied Franklin with a smile, as he connected the two computers. “But yes, it is getting ‘pretty intense’, as you put it. I’m needing all the space I can get. Just tell me if I start to crowd you, okay?”

  Hemings nodded, and Hercules watched as Franklin chuckled, pulled out a bag of cheetos, opened it, and offered Hemings some. Hemings declined, and Franklin shrugged. “Your loss.”

  “Agent Franklin, this is meant to be a serious case,” said Eliza from beside Hercules as he turned back around. She turned on the ignition and the radio, then pulled away from Mozart’s house. “Why did you bring Cheetos?”

  “Why, Agent Schuyler, are you insinuating that because I’m an FBI Agent, I can’t enjoy Cheetos?” asked Franklin in fake horror. “I am insulted! This is jobist!”

  There came a laugh from the radio, and Lee’s voice came through from the other side. “That’s true, Madam Team Leader! Why you gotta be so rude?”

  “Speaking of,” said Hercules, “Ben, you offered Sally Cheetos, but no one else. I want some of that chemically goodness too, sir!” he stuck out his hand behind him, hoping for Franklin to be so kind as to give him one.

  Franklin chuckled, to the amusement of the occupants of the other car, and said, “Hm, no, I don’t think you get any, you haven’t said please, and you’re not being squished by my equipment. Sorry, Hercules.”

  Hercules made a face, pulling his hand back, then laughed, as Eliza pulled into their hotel once again, parking the car.

  “Well, then,” he said, “I guess you don’t get the key information I got from our kind Mr. Amadeus Mozart back there.”

  Eliza, Angelica and Martha all gasped, as Franklin leaned forward slightly towards Hercules, frowning. “You mean, like, named after the famous composer? Like, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart?”

  “I bet he’s just as proficient, too,” replied Hercules, nodding.

  “You got information and you’re only now telling us?” asked Angelica from the radio, her voice betraying her shock and annoyance. Eliza stared at Hercules with a flash of Angelica’s annoyance, and he could only guess what Martha looked like.

  “Well, yeah, I didn’t want that Mozart guy to realize I stole a paper from his desk without him knowing,” said Hercules with utmost conviction. He’d said his words and he’d stick by them.

  “For goodness sake, Mulligan!” cried Martha from the radio “Are you saying we didn’t have all the information we needed to begin with? And that you stole this information from a suspect ?!”

  Hercules gave a sheepish smile to the ground as he stepped out of the blue toyota. “...Yeah? I guess I am? Sorry, Martha…”

  “You better be sorry, Agent Mulligan, I don’t know what you were thinking, but you don’t just go stealing information from anyone!” Martha almost yelled as she got out of her car’s driver side. She slammed the car door and stormed towards Hercules. The rest crowded around the two, until Eliza got between them.

  “Everyone, calm down!” she said. “First off, we need to get one thing straight, that I realized when our Mr. Mozart told us his name and that he had ‘connections’. We’ve been led on. And I think I know by who. Now, I don’t want anyone to panic, but I think this whole operation was to get attention off of our criminal, and we’re actually now ten States away from where we need to go.”

  Everyone stared at her, their faces all the same. They were all horrified. Hercules was the first to break the ice and speak up.

  “Let’s call this number, then.”

  “What number?” asked Peggy, speaking up finally.

  “Its part of the information I stole. A number, a name, an address and a footnote. Here- let me get it out of my pocket.”

  He reached into his breast pocket once again, and pulled out the folded piece of paper. “Anyone got their phone on them right now? Ah, Lee, good, okay, I need you to type in this number. Okay, 202- got it? Good. (202) 634-8349.”

   Lee punched in the number Hercules gave him, but Eliza held his arm before he pressed call. “I’m not sure we should be calling this man, what if he kills the two Secretaries because of us?”

  Martha shook her head, then motioned for Lee to continue, her face very angry. “No, continue. I want to know just how bad that Mr. Benedict Arnold has thrown us off our game. I want to know just how long a sentence he’ll have in prison, and how bad a punishment from me and my husband he’ll be getting. George told me all about that call they got in the meeting room, and right now I am very pissed and in need of someone to rant at.”

  Everyone in the group looked towards each other, then Lee nodded and pressed call. They only waited a few minutes before a voice answered, sounding very scratchy and misused, and very undeniably male.

  “Ah, ‘Volfy’! I’m sure your wife would love to talk to you, wouldn’t she? Now, are you on about the deal I made you?”

Maria Reynolds was never one to stand up for herself. She’d always been the victim, the one put down, harassed, told to do things. But just this once, she called the shots.

  She’d had enough of her husband’s mistreatment, how he’d always antagonize her and make her feel like everything was her fault. Not this time, it wasn’t. No, this time, it was all his fault, and he couldn’t make her change her mind.

  James Reynolds had never said anything about touching either Hamilton or Jefferson, never mind hurt them. When he did, it made her want to break his arms. The way both Secretaries reacted when only one was slapped or hit made her want to cry, their simultaneous screams horrifying.

  It was enough to make any listener with a heart feel like they should stop the pain of the two soul-mates. But of course, Maria had learned the hard way that James had no heart or soul.

  So when James finally walked out of the small apartment room that he was keeping the two men in, Maria made her move.

  She first made sure that James wouldn’t be coming back in and intruding on Maria’s plan. She locked the door from the inside, and used a chair on the door, so he wouldn’t be able to open it no matter how he tried.

  Next, she opened the window curtains, making sure that both Hamilton and Jefferson could very clearly see her if they needed or wanted to. She didn’t want to be scaring the ones she was trying to save, after all.

  Finally, all she had to do was release the pair, let them be together, and explain to them what was going on. That was the tricky part, for Maria had to be careful with them. She didn’t want them mad at her, she didn’t do anything. It was all James’s fault, this time.

  She slowly and non-threateningly came up in front of Jefferson, the only one of the two left conscious after the beating James had given them after the phone call. His gaze was glued to someplace near her feet, unfocused and distant. He looked like he was the one who took the worse beating, even though Hamilton had, and Jefferson himself had no physical bruises. Strange thing about soul-mates , Maria thought.

  She leaned down to be eye-level with Jefferson, then said in a welcoming and calm voice, “Hey there, Mr. Jefferson, right? I’m Maria. I’m going to help you, okay? May I touch you?”

  Jefferson seemed to just barely register that Maria was in front of him, but her words seemed to get through to his head, and his face scrunched up slightly. “Don’t… hurt… please…” he mumbled almost impossibly quietly.

  Maria gave a small, warm chuckle, then said, “No, I won’t hurt you. I’m going to help you, understand? I just need to get these binds off of you, okay?”

  Jefferson took a few moments to comprehend what she said, but eventually he relaxed slightly, losing his scrunched up face, and nodded. Maria took that as her cue and quickly untied Jefferson. The knots were nothing super spectacular, just the same type of knot you’d use tying someone’s shoelaces together, and they came undone rather easily.

  She then helped Jefferson to his feet, and steadied him as he wobbled dangerously. “Here you go, it’s okay, you’ll be okay,” Maria muttered to him as he slowly regained his balance.

  He seemed not to notice Hamilton on the other side of the room, but Maria was soon to fix that. She gently pulled him along to where Hamilton sat unconscious, his limp form covered in bruises and a few cuts. James had been very brutal with the poor Secretary of Treasury, taking a bat and knife to him as well as his hands. Maria grimaced at the damage.

  Jefferson seemed to perk up slightly at seeing Hamilton, then he got a scared or anxious look to his face. “Is… half… dead?” he whispered imperceptibly, sounding like a lost child after a nightmare.

  Maria smiled encouragingly at Jefferson, and said, “No, honey, he’s just asleep. Would… you like me to try and wake him for you?”

  Jefferson nodded slightly, taking a tiny step forward. Maria went in front of Hamilton and undid his restraints, then lightly shook the small man. “Hey, there, Mr. Hamilton, I’m sure you feel very lonely right now, and your… er, other half needs you now, sweetheart. Could you please wake up? For him? Please, Mr. Hamilton?”

  Slightly, ever so slightly, Hamilton fluttered his eyes, then groaned, seemingly feeling all of the pain that was scattered across his body. Jefferson seemed to gain the feeling of pain, too, but he tried to hide it. Hamilton brought his head up from his chest where it had fallen, moving his hands slightly.

  Then, Jefferson and Hamilton’s eyes met, and they sprung into stunted movement.

  Jefferson did his best to catch Hamilton as he jumped out of his chair. Hamilton’s legs couldn’t support him, however, and they gave out under him. Jefferson, having not endured any actual physical damage, supported both their weights. Both Hamilton and Jefferson had tears in their eyes, but they soon worked their way around each other, Jefferson hoisting Hamilton onto his back like a piggyback ride while Hamilton put both his arms around the former, holding onto him and using his arms in place of Jefferson's.

  Maria got an idea, thinking back to when she first saw the pair of soul-mates at Monticello's doors. She tore down the curtains with a loud RIP , then gave the remaining fabric to the duo.

  “This might help you,” she said as they took the fabric and fastened it underneath Hamilton and around Jefferson. They yelped a few times from Hamilton’s pain, but they were mostly silent.

  Finally, when the pair were done with the curtain, they turned towards Maria, an odd look on their faces. They spoke in perfect unison, still somehow managing to make it quiet. “Wh-why… why’d you help me?”

  “Because I’m tired of my husband and what a horrible person he is, this was the last straw,” Maria replied, with a lot more conviction and courage in her voice than she felt. “Now, let’s get you two out of here. What should I call you? And can you walk on your own?”

  “Um, Alexomas,” they said with some hesitancy. They - He? - took a few steps forward, wobbling a bit, then nodded. “I think I’ll be okay.”

  “Good, then let’s get a move on before my husband gets back,” said Maria. “He’ll be right angry if he catches us in the act of esc-”

  A jangle of the doorknob cut Maria off, and she slapped a hand over her mouth as Alexomas gasped. There came a swear from the other side, then James yelled from the other side, in a sickly sweet voice, “Maria, are you in there? Would you kindly open the door, honeybunches?”

   He must have lost a business deal or something, for he never sounded like that unless he was going to take out some of his annoyance on Maria with something in hand.

   Maria’s breath hitched, and she just squeaked out, “C-coming, dear!”

   Alexomas gave her a shocked look, and Maria regained her posture. “I can’t let him know yet, we need an alternative way out,” she whispered to Him.

   A look of realization crossed Alexomas’s faces, then He started looking around the window, making sure it was a safe drop. The apartment they were in was about five stories high, if Maria recalled correctly, but it had a fire escape leading down.

  James seemed to get impatient, and called, “Maria, any second now!”

  “I know, I’m sorry,” Maria called back, going over to the door to hold the chair in place as it slid, “I just need to clean something up! Hold on!”

  Alexomas, with his limited strength and aching body, managed to slowly but surely pry the window open, just enough to get Maria through, but not nearly enough for both grown, relatively well-fed (in Thomas’s case) men to fit at the same time, which they were surely want to do.

  Finally, James started banging on the door, trying the knob again, and yelled, “If you don’t let me in soon, woman, you will wish that you never locked this door in the first place!”

  Maria rushed over to Alexomas and heaved the rest of the window open, letting out a sigh from the weight, and called over her shoulder, “You don’t control me anymore, James Reynolds, you can’t hurt me ever again!”

  There was a fluid succession of loud swears and sexist remarks as James tried to bust down the door.

  “Now or never!” cried Maria, as James started to wear down the door. Maria heard the chair topple from it's place guarding the door.

  She forced Alexomas through the now open window, the two of them only just fitting, and got to the landing of the fire escape herself when she heard James slam open the door and cry out in anger, then murderous rage as he realized what Maria had done.

  Maria had never felt this scared in her life.

  As she ran down the fire escape, pushing Alexomas ahead of her and making sure He made it all the way before she went down herself, she heard the bang of a gun, and the clang of a tiny metal bullet hitting the ladder above her head. James must have been at least a little drunk, as normally he had precision aim.

  With a couple more shots, Maria and Alexomas made it to the second floor fire escape, then Alexomas caught a bullet in Hamilton’s left arm.

  Both of the pair screeched in pain, the blood blossoming out and pouring onto the metal. From the looks of things, Jefferson almost dropped Hamilton, and He might have, had Maria and the flimsy curtain sling not been there.

  After making sure the bullet hadn’t made it through Hamilton’s arm and into his chest, she pushed Alexomas onward, dodging three more bullets in the process.

  They made it to ground level, Maria pushing Alexomas ahead of her, and they ran for cover behind a different building. James must have been reloading, but right before they made it to safety, a couple more shots were heard, and a final bullet lodged itself into Jefferson’s right back calf.

  He toppled into Maria with a scream as she pulled Him into the safety of the flower storefront that was across from the apartment complex. James must not have been aiming for her at all, or else she was sure she would have at least once been hit.

  James was now probably going to come after her and Alexomas, and they needed a place to stay. Maria knew she should probably take Alexomas to a hospital, as He suffered with a twisted look on His faces from the bullets that He’d caught, biting his inner cheek, but Maria herself was a known partner in crime with James, and Maria couldn’t leave Alexomas now. They’d come this far, only a little farther.

  Alexomas seemed to be able to think through the pain enough to get her a slip of paper and His phone from His pocket with a shaking hand. How had James not taken His phone? Or checked his pockets at all? Small miracles, Maria, small miracles.

  She took the phone and the paper, opening it up to see someone’s phone number on it. Beside it was a name, Hercules Mulligan , and a small smiley face.

  Maria smiled a grim smile at the smiley face, then dialed in the number. This Hercules man must have been a friend or colleague, and if Alexomas had his number in his pocket, he must have been good.

  After two rings, the phone picked up, and a male voice spoke on the other side. “Hello? Who has this phone number? Alexander, is that you?”

  Maria chuckled a bit, then held the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she attempted to stunt the bleeding that was pouring out of Alexomas’s arm and leg with some of her red dress.

  “Hello, yes, this is Maria Reynolds, I have Hamilton and Jefferson here with me, and we’re being hunted by my husband, a Mr. James Reynolds. We need help, and Alexomas has been shot. Twice.”

  Maria tried to keep her voice even, but she knew that it was probably shaking violently, just like her hands. Alexomas kept flinching away from her bandage work with small yelps, but she kept trying to stop the bleeding. Her hands were covered in His blood.

  There was a gasp from the other end, then the voice on the other end said, “Where are you? Me and my team will be there as soon as possible.”

  “I’m in Washington D.C, outside a flower shop, though we’re going to need to move soon. I have no idea what street. Please come quickly, or Alexomas will bleed out, and this will all be for nothing, please!”

  “Ma’am, we’re on our way now, thank you for telling us this. You’ll be safe soon, hang in there.”

  And with that, Alexomas and Maria were left alone in front of the flower shop as the man hung up.

Chapter Text

Alexomas was in excruciating pain, but He couldn’t let it show too much without losing His sanity.

  He was being supported by Maria as they moved through Washington D.C in hopes of getting James Reynolds off their tail. Reynolds had shot Alexomas in the leg and arm, and though Maria had tried to stunt the bleeding with torn-off strips of her dress, He was still dripping blood onto the pavement everywhere He went. The same darkness that had been plaguing His vision still haunted Him then, and it was a fight just to stay in control of His body(ies) and stay awake. All he wanted to do was lay down and fall asleep.

  They went inside an inn, somewhere close, hopefully, to the White House, and they planned to stay the night. Hopefully they’d lost Reynolds enough to have not led him straight here. If nothing else, this inn would at least keep disclosure as to who was staying in certain rooms.

  They walked up to the front desk, and one look at the bored-looking employee there told Alexomas that it wasn’t so rare an occurrence that someone covered in blood just walked into the little inn. That made Him worry even more than the bullet wounds in Him did. Who else was getting shot like this? And why?

  The front desk employee gave Alexomas and Maria a glance, then dug into somewhere under the desk. She lazily handed them a set of keys and said, “Room 13, upper floor, try not to get blood everywhere. You can pay after you’ve finished your visit. Thank you for choosing us, have a nice day.”

  Alexomas gave the employee His best attempt of an incredulous look, before Maria leaned forward to grab the key, then led Him towards room 13.

   They probably set aside room 13 for people who are half dead, like me, thought Alexomas. How many people stumble into this inn to warrant an Almost-Dead-And-Bleeding room?!

  Maria fumbled with the keys for a few moments, still having to keep Alexomas up, then opened the door and led Him inside. Alexomas, when they finally did get inside, fell onto the bed and immediately regretted it. He’d managed to land on His arm gunshot wound, and He let out a strangled cry as the pain registered very thoroughly throughout His arm.

  Maria was instantly by His side as she helped Him flip over onto His other side, being careful not to grab at His wound for leverage. She then rushed out to see if the inn had any painkillers that she could give Him, and He lay in His own pain and self-regret.

  When Maria came back, Alexomas had managed to fold Himself into a little ball of hurt, His bubble of pain being reduced to the center of the bed He’d fallen onto. She quickly filled up a glass of water in the kitchen, then brought it back to Alexomas, also handing Him whatever painkiller the inn had given her to give Him.

  He quickly took in the drink and the painkiller that she gave Him, and as the pain dulled and the darkness creeped up His vision like vines, Maria stayed with Him, never leaving His side.

Peggy ran with her crew into the Washington airport, having just landed in a plane. The flight had been seven hours, and the team had taken one overnight. Peggy’s legs were feeling stiff, and she was starting to wish the nickname ‘PegLeg’ had merit, just to be rid of the stiffness.

  They rushed to the baggage pickup, hoping for a miracle to happen and let their bags be the first out of the plane. The curse of flights happened, however, and the team was forced to wait a good half an hour until their bags came, at which point all of them, even Lee, were getting impatient.

  They’d gotten the call from a girl named Maria, confirming their suspicions that they were being led on, on Mulligan’s phone, and they’d all tried to catch the very next plane back to Washington D.C. Everything happened so fast, but Mulligan and Eliza kept insisting that it wasn’t fast enough.

  One large black SUV was waiting for them outside the airport, and they hopped into it. Martha called shotgun while Eliza took the driver’s seat, so the rest of them were forced to be squished in the back. Franklin started setting up, and was squishing Peggy and Hemings, so offered Cheetos in compensation. Peggy quickly complied.

  “Alright, we might need to call that number you got Maria on, there, Mulligan,” said Franklin, who had a large headset on and two computer monitors set up and ready to track.

  Mulligan nodded, pulled out his phone, and dialed Hamilton’s number. Peggy had always wondered how an FBI/tailor had the Secretary of Treasury’s phone number on speed dial, but never really questioned it too deep. It wasn’t her place to pry. Yet.

  After two attempts of calling Hamilton’s phone, Mulligan finally connected, getting the same woman as before. As Franklin plugged the phone into his devices, Mulligan put it on speaker so they could all hear her and speak to her.

  “Hello?” asked Maria. Her voice sounded rough and scared, exhausted about the day’s events.

  “Yes, hello, Maria, right? This is Hercules Mulligan speaking, you called me earlier about Alexomas?” Mulligan sounded surprisingly calm about his situation.

  “Oh, Mr. Mulligan!” cried Maria. She sounded like she was resting someplace, as she didn’t sound so out of breath as before. “Are you on your way? We’ve made it to an inn, I don’t know which one, though.”

  “That’s okay,” said Mulligan, “we’re tracking your phone. Is that okay with you?”

  “Um, yeah, okay,” she said. “Wait, we?”

  “Yes, I’m with my team, I can list off their names for you.”

  Eliza pulled out of the airport, previously meeting a lot of traffic, and sped in the direction the signal that Franklin’s equipment was giving her while Maria pondered the proposition.

  “S-sure, that’d be good,” she said, setting the phone down somewhere. She must have had the phone on speaker too, and there was the shuffle of fabrics somewhere in the background.

  “Okay,” Mulligan sighed, “I have with me myself, Hercules Mulligan, beside me Charles Lee and Angelica Schuyler, driving the car is Elizabeth Schuyler, beside her Martha Wa-…” Martha cut Mulligan off, not wanting Maria to know that the First Lady was on the phone, “Um, Waringson, then behind me, Sally Hemings, Ben Franklin, and Peggy Schuyler.”

  Peggy gave a small wave, even though Maria couldn't see her.

  Maria sighed, then said, “You've got a big team. Are you close? He's still bleeding out, I can't stop it, I think He’ll pass out soon. Hey Alexomas, are you okay?”

  There was movement on the other side, then someone whispered something unintelligible.

  “What was that?” they heard Maria mumble, obviously trying not to be too rude to everyone on Peggy’s end.

  “There’s so much blood, Maria, why is it so red?” whispered Alexomas.

  Peggy took in a sharp breath as Eliza covered her mouth and Angelica mouthed, “Oh my God, what’s happened to them?” with wide eyes. Even Lee looked scared for Alexomas’s well-being. Maria broke the silence that was overtaking everyone in the Schuyler sister’s team.

  “Does it hurt, Alex?”

  “N-no…” Alexomas whispered to her.

  “Where did you- wait no, don’t take that off! That’ll make things more red, don’t touch that!”

  “I-itchy… hurts with it on…”

  “I know, I know, bare with me, hold on. Let me get you some more painkillers. Put that ice back on it, and hold your leg up. You see the phone there? Try not to be too quiet, the people on the other end will think you’ve died, okay? No one wants you dead, stay awake and stay alive, alright?”

  There was a rustle of fabric, then the sounds of the phone being picked up off whatever surface Maria had placed it on. The sound of laboured breathing overtook the speakers, and then a dual whimper of pain.

  “It’s okay, it’s okay,” assured Maria, going out of the range of the phone, so that it couldn’t pick up her voice anymore.

  “I know…” whispered Alexomas, right into the speaker. It had apparently been placed right by his mouth.

  “U-um, hey, Alex,” Mulligan started, getting a ragged intake of breath from Alexomas. “How’re you doing, buddy? Are you hanging in there? You’re so strong, you know that?”

  After a few laboured breaths from Alexomas, there was a puff of air that must have been an attempt to say something, then, whispered even more softly, “I-I’m not so good. I d-don’t think I’ll make it t-to the morning. My leg and… and shoulder hurts…” there was a break, as if Alexomas couldn’t get any more words out, which in and of itself was scary considering Secretary Hamilton was involved, then He continued. “Herc, you’re coming?”

 Mulligan smiled a little bit, then nodded. “Yeah, I am. I’ll be with you, bro, in just a few minutes. Stay with me, okay? Stay with me until I get there, deal?”

  There was another pause, then, “Okay.”

  Finally Martha spoke up. “Alex, we’ll be there in a really short time, I promise! I love you so much, son, you’re my everything, you know that? I love you with all my heart, same as George. We’ll come get you, we’ll take your pain away, okay?”

  Peggy smiled a soft, tender smile. Those words were only words a mother could say to their sons or daughters. Peggy felt honoured to be in the presence, and have on her team one of the most caring women in the world.

  “M-mum…!” mumbled Alexomas, being able to raise his voice ever so slightly for Martha.

  Lee gave Martha a questioning glance, not knowing why they were using son/mum names, to which Angelica whispered in his ear the reason. Peggy caught a little bit about how Hamilton didn’t have any parents and, even though he wasn’t adopted, the Washingtons had taken him under their wing.

  Martha managed a smile, then said, back to Alexomas, “Yes, my dear, it’s me. I’m coming to get you, okay? You’ll be safe soon, I promise.”

  “In fact,” Eliza smoke up, “I believe we’re here. Alexomas, are you okay? Can we come to you?”

  There was a shuffle of movement on the other end, then Maria’s voice came back into the phone’s range.

  “Here, put that on- yeah, like that. Good. Now then, over here, and there… perfect. I know it hurts, but this’ll make it better, substantially. There we are, okay? Now, just stay there for a little bit, I’ll be back with you in a second, I just need to… there.”

  Maria seemed to pick up the phone from Alexomas’s grip, wherever that had been, and brought it over to wherever she was going. Then she stopped, and spoke directly into the speaker.

  “Okay, Mulligan, right?”

  “Yes, that’s me,” said Mulligan with a grim smile.

  “What does your car look like?” Maria asked. “I’m at the window and I need to know what I’m looking for, you know, to make sure you’re actually here. Is… is that alright?”

  “O-of course, Maria, that’s fine!” said Mulligan, almost in surprise. “You’re trying to protect a bleeding, dying man, of course that’s alright. Now, my team is in a large black SUV, and we’re parked at the back. Is your room facing the back?”

  “It has a fire escape…” said Maria hesitantly, then she seemed to perk up. “Oh! I see it, I think! We’re on the top floor, I’m wearing a red dress, in the window, waving? See me?”

  Mulligan leaned towards the window, shifting in his seat so that he could look up at the inn. Peggy leaned over him, forcing Mulligan to chuckle slightly and make room for her. Angelica snorted, and Franklin shifted his gear out from under Peggy’s foot, where she’d been resting it.

  On the top floor, like Maria said, there was a woman in a red dress waving one hand at the SUV, the other held up to her ear and holding what Peggy assumed was the phone.

  “Yes, we see you,” said Mulligan after Peggy had stopped fighting her way in front of him.

  Maria breathed a sigh of relief, and the woman in the window seemed to physically relax. Then there was a sudden loud BANG and the window shattered from a point in front of Maria. There was a loud scream from the phone, along with the smashing of glass.

  Immediately, Angelica, Eliza and Hemings leaped out of the car and dashed towards the gun-wielder, pulling out their guns as they ran. The gunner was still standing in the middle of the parking lot, holding the gun up, spraying his bullets as fast as his finger could fire. Soon, his gun was out, and while he fumbled with reloading, Angelica aimed her own gun at his head, Eliza called out a warning to him, and Hemings jumped behind him and grabbed his arms, forcing them to his side.

  Maria had fallen out of sight.

  “Mulligan, we need to get up to that room!” cried Peggy, already starting to get out of the car.

  “Way ahead of you,” answered Mulligan, jumping out himself.

  The two of them ran into the building, being tailed by Martha and Franklin, Lee staying behind to (cowardly) ‘help’ with the madman with a gun. Franklin held the door for everyone as they dashed through the foyer to the stairs, not once giving the elevator a thought. They made it to the second and top level of the inn, and was shocked to see Alexomas carrying Maria down the hall, Maria limp in His arms.

  Peggy assessed that the only reason He was walking was because He used one of Jefferson’s legs, the one without the bullet in it, and used Hamilton's opposite leg. Hamilton had had to have slipped down through the thin, flimsy curtain sling that held his small frame, his other leg getting stuck at an odd angle in the process. He held Maria’s unconscious body in both of Jefferson’s arms, Hamilton’s shot arm dangling useless at His side.

  “Alexomas!” exclaimed Franklin, rushing forward as Alexomas almost dropped Maria while He fell into Franklin’s grasp.

  “H-hospital,” whispered Alexomas as Peggy and Mulligan rushed forward to help Franklin in his escapades to keep the soul-mate duo from falling to the ground. “Stomach… blood… so, so much blood…”

  “It's okay, Alex,” said Martha soothingly as she came forward, snapping out of what seemed to hold her back previously from helping Franklin, “we’re going to get you out of this place, and we’ll get you the best doctor to treat those shot wounds of yours.”

  “N-no,” whispered Alexomas, retreating slightly. “N-no…!” he mumbled louder. “N-no, M-Maria… first… help her… she’s… done so much…”

  Alexomas looked like he was about to collapse, on the verge of falling prey to unconsciousness, but still, just like Hamilton, he was pushing his own health to the extreme and, just like Jefferson, putting decency, educate and public appearance before his own good. Peggy couldn’t help but smile slightly at the thought that Alexomas was about to die and He was more worried about the life of a woman He’d never met before now than His own.

  At Alexomas’s words, Martha started to spill tears, though she did not make a sound. She simply nodded to Alexomas, then took the woman from His arms, and walked back down the stairs, already digging out her phone. Alexomas, seemingly satisfied that Maria would be taken care of, finally closed His eyes, slumping into Franklin and Peggy’s arms, becoming a deadweight.

  “A-Alexomas!” cried Peggy. “Alexomas, wait! Don’t close your eyes! Wake up! You need to be tended to! Alexomas, let us get you to a hospital, you’ll be fine, I swear! Alexomas! ”

  “Come on, Agent Schuyler,” said Franklin with panic in his voice, “let’s get these two out of this building! We need to get them to a hospital, especially because of all the blood they’ve lost. Let’s go!”

  Peggy shut her mouth and nodded, becoming determined. If that man who had been shooting at the window had killed Hamilton and Jefferson, there would be a lot more than a court trial awaiting him. That man had raised Hell, and it would not back down willingly.

  Finally, feeling as though they didn’t have anything else to lose, Peggy and Franklin rushed Alexomas to the exit of the building, a feeling of mounting dread in all of those who saw Alexomas’s limp form.

Chapter Text

It was a long month for the entire workplace as George Washington slowly counted out everything he’d ever said to Hamilton and Jefferson that he regretted. It was a surprisingly long list, and he’d started it at the start of the month, but still hadn’t finished it. Granted, he was only adding things two times a day, but still.

  He’d been emotionally devastated when he’d gotten the call that yes, Alexomas was now safe in a hospital not too far off from the White House, but no, He was in no stable state at all, and might not survive even a week.

  Hamilton had been in the worse condition, supporting severe beating marks from a dull object all across the front and sides of his body, cuts that sunk deep into his flesh along his torso, arms and neck, and six broken bones along with the deeply buried bullet in his arm that had granted leave to the most blood. One of his legs had been broken, and he’d apparently even then tried to use it whilst getting Maria safely out of the window where that horrid James Reynolds had been shooting at and into the hallway. It must have been excruciating pain, but still the small, self-sacrificing man had given all he had for the betterment of others, not himself.

  Jefferson didn’t have any beating marks, but he’d still lost a lot of blood from his own bullet wound in his leg, and any damage that had affected Hamilton affected Jefferson, because of their soul-mate link. Jefferson had tried his best, even whilst unconscious, to keep a hold on Hamilton, while the other man didn’t move an inch, having fallen too far down the deep, dark hole that was rest after two to three days of non-stop action.

  George sighed, then put his forehead on his desk, his hands clutching the edge of the table. This whole mess was his fault. He could have prevented this kidnapping and just let Alexomas work, even if He talked to Himself and started arguing with Himself. George could have let them stay, could have had one person with a well-rounded view of how the country should be taken care of stay on State and Treasury, could have had functional cabinet meetings where things actually got done, but no. Now, the White House was in a state of disarray, people not knowing what to do or whom to give their work to now that their heads of offices weren’t around to check and/or approve their papers. John Adams had actually gotten off his butt (yes, even George would admit that Adams was a bit lazy) to try and help George in his attempts to calm the White House members.

  Oh how he regretted ever sending Alexomas away how he did, so angry and argumentative. Alexomas had learned His place, but had also learned not to disclose such private information to George. While he planned to work through what he’d broken, George knew he’d never get back the kind of trust Hamilton and Jefferson had originally put in him before.

  As he picked his head off the desk and counted off number 58 on his list, one of the security men from somewhere else in the White House other than the Oval Office came into said office.

  “Sir, there is a letter for you, here,” he said in a very flat, monotone voice. Could have rivaled Burr’s flat voice , mused George with a hint of humour. Then again, this man does look strikingly like Hamilton .

  “Bring it here,” said George. “Thank you, Mr…?”

  “Stevens, sir. Edward Stevens.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Stevens. Have a good day,” dismissed George.

  Stevens did a little bow, brought the letter he’d brought with him to the desk in front of George, then went on his way. George picked up the letter, glancing distractedly at the front, until he read what it actually said.

  The letter was from Angelica Schuyler, an FBI agent who came in to check on Hamilton a lot, and who always said that Hamilton and her sister, Peggy, should meet someday. Her name was scrawled onto the front, along with a hurried address, and the postal code. Above that was where it was originally from, which was the hospital that Alexomas was being kept.

  He opened the letter quickly, though making sure not to rip the letter itself, then read the passage inside.

Dear Mr. George Washington,

President of the United States of America,

I have written this letter in hopes that it will get to you quickly by one of my friends who has promised to pass it off to one of your guards. I know this mode of communication is rather old-fashioned, but it was the best I could do, as you would not pick up the White House general phone, and I don’t have your personal phone.

This letter is about the recovery and health of Alexomas, as they seem to be getting better. In fact, the doctor said they (or at least Thomas Jefferson) might wake up in a day or two. That’s an immense relief to me, at least, and perhaps to you, seeing as you saw and hopefully still see Alexander Hamilton as a kind of son.

The doctor has said that they pair may lose some of their recent memories, depending on if the trauma they experienced at the hands of that cruel Mr. James Reynolds was harsh enough. While I think that Secretary Jefferson should be fine, I worry for Secretary Hamilton, as his condition is only now starting to become better, and even then only slightly so. Mr. Jefferson seems to be recovering fast, so I assume you will have your Secretary of State back soon.

I’ve heard, by means of Secretary Hamilton’s close friend John Laurens, that, when one of the pair is asleep and/or has left the other alone without the psychic connection they now normally have, the one awake will get up and wander aimlessly, as if searching for their missing half. My hope is that the doctors have enough sense as to let whichever of the two wander, and that you would back me on the claim that if the one wants to wander and search, let them do as they please, and leave them be. I know for a fact that in such a diluted state, neither Secretaries Hamilton nor Jefferson would even think of harming or doing wrong to another of the hospitals many clients.

Anyways, I know I have taken a page from Hamilton’s own book and turned my writing into something of a stress relief, but I will leave this letter to you and let you decide your own actions. I hope to hear soon that you have gone to visit your so-called ‘son’ and his ‘boyfriend’ in the hospital, and thank you for reading what I’ve decided to vent onto these pages.

Many well wishes to you, good sir,

Angelica Schuyler

George stared at the letter for quite some time, before leaping out of his chair and throwing his hands with the letter into the air with a whoop. His son was going to live! Hopefully.

  Even if there was a tiny, itsy-bitsy chance that Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson would live, George would push it. The only thing that George had left was hope, and he’d be damned if he didn’t stuff all of his hope into the slim sliver of a chance that he’d get to hear his brilliant son’s musical laugh once again.

  As George rushed out of the Oval Office with all the things he would need he was in the hospital, John Adams came up to him to ask if he was okay.

  “Oh, my heart and soul today are flying, John, my friend!” exclaimed George. “Can you at all ever tell why I’ve become so happy? It’s the number one most miracle-ly miracle to ever miracle, to this day! I’m so happy, my deepest emotions alight! Today, today , another brave and tireless soul is saved from the clutches of cold and emotionless death, today, my son lives!”

  Adams only just registered what George said as the president flew past him through the halls of the huge White House, rushing to his car.

  “S-so you’re happy because Hamilton… what?” asked Adams, only half understanding what George was talking about. He obviously hadn’t read the newspapers at all. The story was all over the place, you literally couldn’t escape it unless you were living under a rock, and even then it was difficult.

  “Oh, pick up the papers, one day, would you, John?” cried George as he hurriedly unlocked his little red sonic. “The story is all over the place. By the time I explain it to you, you could have read it over tenfold.”

  “You have always been one for long, drawn-out speeches,” commented Adams with a hint of amusement and prodding in his voice.

  George rolled his eyes, then jumped into his car, not deigning Adam’s comment with a response. He sped through traffic as he made his way to the hospital that his dear Alexander Hamilton was being kept on life support, and slammed open the doors to the building. A couple of nurses glared at him for the sudden and loud intrusion into the privacy and peace that hospitals were known to provide, but at that moment, George couldn’t care less. He had one thing on his mind; see his son and make amends.

  After quickly and quietly signing into the hospital, the front desk nurse showed him to one of the farther back wards, and George silently slipped in. He’d started to get nervous, what did he expect to see? A happy and healthy Hamilton sitting at the edge of his hospital bed, signing papers and getting released from the ward? If so , he mused, I’m in for a shocker .

  He braced himself for whatever he’d see, then finally pulled back the curtain to Alexomas’s bedside. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight he saw.

  Jefferson was sitting with his legs crossed, seemingly half asleep and in little pain, his wounded leg slightly less under him. He was still connected to an IV, but it didn’t seem like he really needed it as much anymore. He had both his arms around the small frame of Hamilton, who also looked half asleep, making both of his hands effectively useless. Hamilton sat like a hen in a basket, both legs tucked in and under him in Jefferson’s lap, the back of his head resting on Jefferson’s chest. Jefferson was leaning on the wall and pillows, freeing his entire chest for Hamilton to rest on. He too was connected to an IV, much more of in need of it than Jefferson, and he had some extra hospital accessories, like something pumping more blood into his system and patches stunting the blood coming from his arm. He had two very decorated casts, one on his leg, and one around his wrist. George could only assume Hamilton had casts around his torso where his broken ribs were.

  But the most amusing part about this picture was that, cradled his Hamilton’s hands, which rested in his own lap, (more so in his non-shot one) was a large ceramic cup of straight black coffee, it’s steam rising up and filling the small area with the aroma of the beans. Hamilton seemed to be soaking in the steam alone, not even taking a sip from the cup, just taking in the smell.

  George, upon being presented with this wonderful visual, put a hand up to his mouth and snickered, not being able to contain his amusement. The duo, Alexomas, spared a tired, half-lidded glance at the president before turning back to the warm cup of coffee that rested in His hands.

  “Of course you’d have coffee before you’re even allowed to get up and walk,” George said quietly, not wanting to disturb the two in front of him any more than he had to.

  Alexomas gave him a grunt, then whispered, “‘S nice, you wouldn’ underst’nd.”

  “You’ve truly turned completely to steam power. Guess you won’t be needing any electricity for the next couple of hours, huh?”

  Alexomas hummed contentedly, closing His eyes, then sunk into the bed more, seemingly getting ready to go to sleep.

  “Think I came in right at the perfect time,” mumbled George, pulling the still-full cup out of Hamilton’s hands before it spilled, “I wanted to see if you were okay. Am I correct in assuming you are?”

  “Yes, pap…” sighed Alexomas, his breathing already starting to even out.

  “Alright, I’ll leave you two to it. I love you more than anything in this life, you know this, right?” murmured George, placing the mug on the little side table, which was already filled with get-well-soon cards, stuffed animals, and beautiful plants and flowers. George crouched down, wanting to watch Alexomas fade off into the realms of blissful slumber.

  It was such a rare occurrence that the amazing, ever-moving, non-stop man by the name of Alexander Hamilton actually slept, but when he did, his was truly at peace. Nothing but the literal end of the world could wake this man from his beauty rest. George smiled. He was so fond of this small man. He wished he could take all of his suffering away. It’d be nice if he could help Jefferson, too, but Hamilton, he found, was a lot more in need of help and protection than Jefferson at the moment.

  As he went to leave the hospital, George dropped a couple dollars on a stuffed lion, some blue irises, and a small card. He made sure to add to the card just how much he and Martha truly cared about the two of them. It was not every day that the President of the United States got to writing a card to someone he cared about.

  Finally, he did make it out of the hospital, making sure to add disposing of his regret list to his mental list of priorities. He’d swing by the Schuyler’s family home to inform Philip Schuyler of how wonderful his daughters were. He’d make sure to stay long enough to see Angelica and thank her in person for the rather long letter she’d written to him. She was one of the reasons he was getting rid of that dreaded regret list in the first place, after all.

  As drove, his heart seemed to lighten, and his face started to crack into a pure, blissful smile, filled with so much pure honesty and happiness that it felt like heaven in just a small movement. Finally, after about a month, something was actually going right in the world.

Chapter Text

When Alexomas woke up again, He was in the presence of absolutely no one, full of the thought that He was utterly and completely not alone .

  There was someone else in the room with Him, but He just couldn’t put His finger on who , precisely. It was a persistent nagging, a feeling that He wasn’t alone. He was a little scared, what if He was being haunted by a ghost? No one liked being haunted by a ghost, why would He? But, between common sense and a feeling in His gut, He knew that it wasn’t a ghost who was here with Him, it was a physical person.

  He took a deep breath, looking around His surroundings. He was in a hospital, still in a hospital, and all the lights were out in His ward. It must have been sometime during midnight, the time when one of His halves would get up and go work on work until he had to go to work. Which half? He wondered to Himself. Which part of me is so willing to sacrifice sleep?

  Alexomas sighed. He didn’t know. He hadn’t known since He punched Himself in the nose. Which one punched? Why couldn’t He tell which one did what? The constant nagging feeling of someone in the room just barely kept Him from diving into His head further.

  Finally, Alexomas looked down at Himself, then wished He hadn’t. His smaller half (Hamilton, He thinks people keep calling that half) had a lot of damage, and it was where most of His pain was originating. The smaller body had at least six casts, just from what Alexomas could feel, all of which cradled broken bones from the trauma that… James? Yeah, James Reynolds had given Him. He was just grateful that Reynolds hadn’t broken His writing wrist. He had cuts covering his front, all of which had either gauze wrapping, if it was bad, or normal band-aids, if it was smaller. The amount of bruises rivaled the amount of cuts His smaller half had, however, and when Alexomas tried to move, pain ripped through the hurts and pains covering His body, sending Him back to laying on the hospital bed.

  The bullet holes in both bodies weren’t doing Him any favours, either. His arm hurt like heck and the back of His calf felt like it was falling off. Thank goodness for painkillers, who knew how much more painful His wounds wound be without them.

  In better news, however, as He looked over His bigger body (generally called Jefferson, He thinks), there seems to be nothing but the bullet wound and a few scratches from His and Maria’s escape. That was good!

  So thus, with that in mind, He tried His best to contain the yelps His mouth threatened to give out while He worked on standing up. His smaller half was to go up onto His bigger half’s back, so that He was in the same position as before being kidnapped. Then, He used all of the blankets provided to wrap around Himself and safely secure both bodies together. That took a lot of time, as His smaller half kept unintentionally spasming away from anything that touched His skin. It took a good hour, and a bit of crouching down and using the bed as support, but it eventually work.

  Now, He had one hand from His smaller half (which He thinks He’ll name H) and one hand from His taller half (which He thinks He’ll name J) at His disposal. That method of using both bodies was mimicked with His use of His legs, the iron-hard cast on H’s leg doing wonders to keep Alexomas up.

  Alexomas stood by the bed for a good while. Why did He want to get up? Did He want to get away from that persistent someone in His room with Him? No, that wasn’t it, He knew He couldn’t get that someone away. Then Alexomas looked out the window, which was half the ward away.

  That was why.

  He made His way slowly and painfully to the window, where He could see a lot of the city. He could see the White House from where He was, His room was just high enough to peek over any other building. It was such a grand sight, Alexomas wouldn’t have traded it away for anything in the world. That view was worth an immeasurable amount.

  The stars were bright that night as Alexomas mulled things over. All He did was stand at the window, arms on the window sill, gazing up at the big black expanse that people called the night sky. He could just see the moon, the crescent just a thin silver sliver in the sky.

  After what felt like only six minutes, but what must have been at least three to four hours, the sun started to peek up over the horizon. The east never looked as beautiful as it did when the sun came up to grace it’s scape. Alexomas watched in wonder as the colours the sun painted cascaded across the sky, seeping into the ever-present black of space, giving the world life. The tendrils of colour started to wrap around clouds and cover the little white and yellow points called stars, eating them up like a hungry lion. Alexomas took a deep breath in, then let it out with the wind, letting go of any built up tension He had. There was nothing quite as calming as the rising and setting of the sun.

   New day, new start, though Alexomas absentmindedly. Let’s pick up the pieces .

  It was kind of nice, not feeling like He was alone. He knew, even if there wasn’t someone other than Him, that He was never alone. He had both H and J. But it wasn’t the same as having someone else, someone whose body you don’t control and whose thoughts aren’t actually yours. So whomever that other presence was, He was happy they was there.

  The morning had started, and with it, the busy motion of a hospital full of dying, healing and healthy patients. Alexomas could hear, from the floor above Him, the rush of trying to save a patient that was already too far gone to save. Death. Something nothing could avoid. Not even one-hundred-year-old tortoises.

  Eventually, someone came into Alexomas’s room. He didn’t notice them until they were leaning on the window beside Him. The movement beside Alexomas startled Him, and He jumped back a bit, preparing whatever flimsy defence He could craft.

  Then He realised His visitor was John Laurens, seemingly having come the hospital by himself. He looked up at Alexomas, a calm, happy look in his eyes.

  “The city looks so beautiful when the early morning first comes in, doesn’t it?” he asked, as sigh leaving his lips. John looked so very calm, an extreme Alexomas could only achieve when He was asleep. John looked peaceful.

  “Yeah,” agreed Alexomas, His voice rough and unused, as He looked back out the window.

  John followed suit, then gasped in joy. “Look, you can see the apartment from here!”

  He pointed to a building past the White House, which looked all lit up and ready for the day. There were cars and people moving to and fro around it, and Alexomas watched as two tiny figures walked into the apartment complex.

  Alexomas smiled, and thought back to the morning before He’d punched Himself. It had been a very calm day, and He’d been rushing to get to work, lest He be late to the meeting. He’d wanted to make sure everything was just perfect, and that all of His arguments were air-tight. As the Secretary of Treasury, Washington relied upon Him a lot, and He needed to be ready for anything, even fighting for what He thought the Secretary of State had gotten wrong.

  It was nice, thinking back to that. John had made pancakes, Hercules had been happily eating, and Lafayette had bounced around the room until Alexander had to leave. It was a grounding thought, a grounding memory.

  Wait.

  In the few seconds it took for His mind to realise what He’d thought, Alexomas doubled over, hands clasping His head, crying out in pain. John was immediately by His side, calling for the doctor or whoever was in the ward with them at the time.

  Alexomas couldn’t really hear what John was saying. It felt like His mind was splitting in two, and it hurt . There couldn’t have been anything in the world that hurt more than His head right then.

  Who the heck was this Alexander? Why was he in Alexomas’s head? Why did it hurt so much to think about him?

   Fairly soon the mental pain was enough to force Alexomas to His side, writhing with His head in His hands. Where was the bloody Advil when you needed it? Who the heck was this Alexander?!

   The doctor somehow maneuvered Him to His bed, where He continued to fight against His own head and memories. He vaguely saw John trying his best to calm Him, even picking up a phone and calling what Alexomas assumed was Hercules, Lafayette and James, but He wasn’t completely sure. He wasn’t completely sure about anything anymore.

  Eventually, after what felt like hours of fighting, but what was more realistically like six minutes, Alexomas’s mind decided it had had enough, and He blacked out a second time after getting shot.

Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, Marquis de Lafayette, always thought himself a patient, if not an always calm, man. He could take a lot, he was resilient, and he was an amazing strategist.

  But when you’re on the road, rushing to a hospital because you got a phone call from one of your best friends about two of your other best friends, whom you know to be soul-mates, having a mental breakdown because they’ve suddenly and unexpectedly dived into the Separation Phase after about a month and a half of worrying and stress, Lafayette was pretty sure he was excused for being impatient, at the very least. The thoughts he was thinking weren’t helping, either.

   I should have been around more often, I shouldn’t have gone back to France, I should have stayed and protected them, I failed, how could they possibly look me in the eyes now, he kept thinking, like a mantra.

  He tore through Washington D.C traffic like a bat outta heck whilst screaming French obscurities, blazing his own trail between the actual roads. He would have probably been arrested and deported back to France (not actually having a full American citizenship) if he had so much as slowed down even a few km/h, but luckily, the law seemed to turn a blind eye to the angry and anxious Frenchman.

  Finally, Lafayette made it to the hospital that Alexomas was at, seeing John and James Madison’s cars in the parking lot, and practically flew inside. He tried to use his height into making the front desk nurse let him into Alexomas’s room, but she demanded to know if he was related or not to the patient, and Lafayette would not stand for such treatment.

  “I demand to see my meilleurs amis now, and I will not stand around letting someone like you keep me here, madam!” Lafayette practically yelled with enough venom to kill an elephant.

  “Well, I’m sorry, sir, but I need your name and your relationship status to the patient,” she said. Obviously, this front desk nurse was not an elephant.

  Before the argument could escalate any further, John showed up to Lafayette’s side, putting a hand on his shoulder and pulling him aside. He gave the nurse a look of apology, which she seemed to accept, then turned to look Lafayette in the eyes.

  “Laf, what’s wrong? You can’t be in such a state if you want to help Alexomas, you know,” John pointed out. Lafayette sighed, looking up and away from John and around the room, running a hand through his full head of curls.

  “I-I know, I know, John,” sighed Lafayette, “I just… flippé. I’m sorry, je ne voulais pas nuire. ”

  “Hey, hey, Laf, it’s okay,’ replied John with a smile, “I just can’t deal with two of my friends going crazy on me, even if one can’t help it. Okay? You okay-ish now?”

  Lafayette glanced back down at John, sighed again, putting his hand back at his side, then returned John’s smile. “Yeah, I think I’ll be okay. Maybe.”

  “Good enough for me!” cried John with a laugh, then brought Lafayette back to the front desk lady.

  Lafayette scowled at the nurse until John elbowed him in the side, in which he sighed, put on a smile, then said with as much clarity and calmness as he could, “My name is Marie-Joseph Paul-”

  “Maybe just a shortened form of your name, Laf,” pleaded John, his eyes saying he’d rather get this done with. Lafayette grinned at him, but obliged.

  “My name is Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, Marquis de Lafayette, and I am a roommate/close friend with the patient Alexomas. I wish to see them, please.”

  The nurse returned the smile in kind, actually looking quite beautiful with it, then replied, “That’s all I needed, sir. He’s in room 143, on the third floor. He might not be awake, but you can still visit Him.”

  “Thank you, madam!” called Lafayette over his shoulder as he and John ran through the double doors that lead to the rooms and elevators.

  When they finally reached the room, the silence between John and Lafayette had become rather sombre, neither one really wanting to see Alexomas in such a state as John had seen Him before. There was the sound of soft voices from inside, and eventually, after a few minutes, Lafayette couldn’t take the wait any more.

  He busted through the doors, his nervous energy making his movements clumsy, and walked briskly to Alexomas’s bedside. The aforementioned Madison sat with his back to Lafayette, seemingly murmuring things in his naturally quiet and calming voice, and for a few seconds, Lafayette let the sound of it wash over him, letting it calm him and prepare him for what he’d see.

  Then John walked in, and Lafayette stole himself, greeting Madison as he sat down in a chair beside him.

  “Good day to you, Monsieur Madison,” he said with a slight inclination of his head.

  Madison’s murmuring stopped, though the general background murmuring didn’t, and he tilted his head slightly over his shoulder to see Lafayette. He smiled softly, then turned back to Alexomas. “Good day to you too, Lafayette. And please, just James will do.”

  “You seem slightly out of it, are you okay, mon amie?” asked Lafayette, still not quite looking at Alexomas.

  James made a humming sound in the back of his throat, then sighed. “I have been out of it, haven’t I? Stress, that’s all I can amount it to. Please, though, ignore that. We’re not here for me.”

  He gestured towards Alexomas with his head, and Lafayette finally looked down at Alexomas.

  Things seemed normal enough. He wasn’t dead or awake, that was for sure, but he also wasn’t asleep. His body was still enough, with random odd twitches and movements in His hands and feet, but He was whispering things, and sometimes murmuring nonsensical double talk, like half-finished phrases. His mouths seemed non-stop, and sometimes His eyes would flutter open to look at nothing while saying a particularly strong set of words, then flutter closed again.

  The doctor on the other side of Alexomas wasn’t doing anything, and so Lafayette took it upon himself to change that. “And what are you staring at? Why don’t you get something to help, docteur, or are you just inutile?”

  The doctor seemed confused about what Lafayette had said, but seemed to get the general idea. As he walked out of the room, Alexomas’s eyes fluttered open again. But this time, they stayed open, going in and out of focus and looking around the room. He seemed to be watching and following multiple invisible forces, not seeming to be able to keep track of just one. His fingers were clawing at the fabric under them, and His feet, which had no shoes on them, were clenching and unclenching His toes, while His legs started to move as if walking.

  His eyes weren’t wide, but they weren’t squinty, either. They were almost neutral. Soon, they settled on Lafayette himself, His head tilted slightly in his direction. He had stopped murmuring, but His eyes were completely unfocused. Wanting to actually do something, Lafayette crouched down at Alexomas’s bedside, slipping off his chair. Alexomas’s unfocused eyes follow his movement, almost as if He were expecting something.

  After a shiver went through him by the oddly unnerving attention he was receiving, Lafayette spoke. “U-um, bonjour, Alexomas. I… haven’t really been around to take care of you, mon amie, et je suis désolé… pour ça. I’ll try to be a better friend, je promets!”

  He gave a light chuckle, then continued. “I have been doing okay, I guess, but it’s a lot harder to face the world when I think that I’m going to lose at least one of my closest amies. Apparently, Herc has noticed a certain… erm, loss of bounce, I think, in my step. I don’t actually remember what he said, I just remember him saying that I look more triste, without you. Either of you. I’m not sure if you can actually entendre ce que je dis, but I just hope that you get through this soon. The world needs you two, tout le temps! I… we miss you, mon amie. Come back soon. Je t’amie, mon amie, more than anything in this life.”

  There was a silence in the room. Even Alexomas had stopped moving. He was now watching Lafayette with His entire being, watching and listening to everything he did.

  Then Alexomas blinked. And blinked again. With each blink, it seemed like His focus got clearer and clearer, until He was looking Lafayette in the eye, actually making eye contact . Madison shifted, and Lafayette saw that he’d been holding on to one of Alexomas’s hands; he had bloody scratch marks where Alexomas’s nails had dug too far deep into his skin. He turned to look at Lafayette, an odd gleam in his eyes that he tried to hide.

  “Laf… ayette?” whispered Alexomas, when His voice finally started to work again.

  “Oui, I’m here, I’ll always be here for you,” responded Lafayette, getting an odd sense that he wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon.

  John came up to Madison, and held his shoulder. Madison turned to see who it was, then sighed. He nodded his head, then John and Madison left the hospital room. That was fine. Alexomas didn’t need to be crowded right then anyways.

  “H-hey…” whispered Alexomas to Lafayette, breaking eye contact to look up at the ceiling, “do… do you remember… that time when you had to… to break up a fight between me and that guy, Benedict Arnold? It was the first time we’d… not you and me, but me and me… the first time that we’d actually agreed on something. Do you r-remember that?”

  Lafayette smiled at the memory. It had been one of the best days of his life, because for once, two of his best friends, Hamilton and Jefferson, had actually agreed on something. That something was that soul-mates who were the same sex shouldn’t be shunned just because who they were meant to be with and who they love were ‘different’ and ‘not of the norm’. They both had strong opinions on that, and they’d fought together when Arnold, who was now no longer part of Washington’s security, had said that it was unnatural.

  “ You’re unnatural, you dirty pig! Just because you don’t know how to deal with someone being different than you doesn’t give you the right to make them feel less than you, you swine!” Hamilton screamed at Arnold.

  “You have no clue what’re you’re talking about and you’re making fun of something out of anyone’s control! You should be ashamed!” Jefferson cried, backing Hamilton up.

  They’d given each other an odd look, then continued to berate and belittle Arnold until he was, as they put it, “Put in his place.”

  “Oui, I remember that,” sighed Lafayette, reveling in the nostalgia.

  Alexomas smiled. “I remember it so clearly. It was such a heated moment… I can see it from two different perspectives!”

  Lafayette just realised that Alexomas’s speak was becoming less and less in sync. He frowned slightly, then said, “So, you’ve separated your memories now, huh, mes amis proches?”

  “Hm?” Alexomas hummed. “What do you mean?”

  “Um…” Lafayette tried to stall for a change in topic, as the doctor came back in. Lafayette lit up a bit, he now he had a sure-fire change in topic.

  “Hey, docteur, I have a question. Is this the normal reaction?”

  Alexomas scoffed, the sound of it slightly jagged, being split into a more Southern snort and a New Yorker/French sniff. “Of course you’d think of that, huh, Laf?”

  Lafayette smiled, and the doctor responded. “In normal circumstances, no, but since He’s been shot at and beaten, it’s only to be expected that His mind can’t handle the immense psychological pain that accompanies the Separation Phase. Give Him time, and He’ll be back to full running power, albeit with two separate, fully functioning minds and bodies.”

  The doctor the took out a clipboard from the end of Alexomas’s bed, and walked out of the room once more, leaving Lafayette alone with Alexomas again. Lafayette almost wished John and Madison would come back, but he knew he had to be strong. Strong for Alexomas, strong for himself. He has to stay and be there for them.

  “Hey, Laf,” Alexomas spoke up again, “do… do you think w-we’ll be able to go back… to, um… to how it was the morning of? The… the smell of pancakes, the happy f-feeling in the air? The way John and you smiled, while H-Herc ate the last o-of the extras?”

  By this point, Alexomas had scooted Himself into a more upright position, keeping Hamilton in Jefferson’s lap. Hamilton had his cast leg out at an odd angle, and he wouldn’t use his shot arm, and Jefferson was trying to keep Hamilton off of his leg wound, but other than that the two looked like they could have been cuddling on the couch in Monticello. It was a calm sight, and Lafayette found himself grinning softly.

  “I think,” Lafayette said, “that we’ll be even happier. I bet you, Alexander and Thomas you, will be more détendu in the mornings, taking more time to prepare, and-”

  “Who’s Alexander?”

  All of Lafayette’s words failed him. “I-I… what?”

  “Who’s Alexander?” repeated Alexomas. “A-actually, who’s T-Thomas, while you’re a-at it?”

  Lafayette stared for a second, then smiled a little, his eyebrows tipping up a bit to make a face of pity-like amusement. “Oh mon dieu, I forgot, you’ve only just started the Separation Phase! Well, mes lions, I think you’ll be just fine. You’re already basically good. Bon chance!”

  Lafayette stood up from his crouch, dusting off his pants with his hands. He had a smile on his lips, his mind slightly scattered from panicking, then relaxing so suddenly.

  “L-Laf?” asked Alexomas in confusion. He seemed to not understand what Lafayette was talking about, and Lafayette himself had lost some of his original train of thought.

  He shook his head. “It’s okay, it’s okay, mon amie. I’ll be coming more often, just so you know. I haven’t been as good a friend as I should be, so, ouais. Anyways, I should leave you be for now, leave you aux bons soins de docteur. Je t’amie, Alexomas!”

  As Lafayette walked out of the room, a thoroughly confused Alexomas replied, “U-uh… um, bye? I guess? See you later…”

  Lafayette chuckled, then called John when he was out of the hospital.

  “Hello? Laf?”

  “Ouais, hey John! Hey, I’ve got a question for you… have you ever confused someone so much that it starts to confuse you, too?”

  John laughed on the other end then said, “Yeah, yeah, I have. I think it’s from that road rage you had, though, before you entered the hospital…”

  Lafayette hummed then stopped in his tracks. He stared at his phone for a good few minutes, then whispered, “Wait, how do you know that? I didn’t mention that, I don't think...”

  “Laf, you’re on the news!”

  “WHAT?”

Chapter Text

Samuel Seabury had always had a quiet life, in a quiet house, in a very loud city.

  He’d always questioned why his mother had chosen to live in a big city like New York, but hadn’t ever questioned it too hard. His house was rather small and untidy, just like how she’d left it when she died.

  Samuel was just trying to get to the grocery store, when the sound of gunfire filled the air. He ran for cover, not wanting to be put in the hospital with a small sliver of metal lodged in him. He ended up two buildings away before he was forced to double over from panting to hard. He was out of shape, so out of shape.

  He heard yelling coming from the direction he’d just run from, and, curious now that the gunshots had ended, made his way back to the scene.

  There seemed to be a crazy man in the middle of a parking lot, a gun kicked away from him, which was the parking lot to a local inn. He glanced up at the inn and noticed one of the windows had been shot in. He also noticed that the people, or rather, powerful women, subduing the crazy man were FBI agents. He then also recognized who the crazy man was. It was James Reynolds, the James Reynolds! Or, in other words, Samuel’s local drug dealer, who dealt him his doses of methamphetamine.

  He walked around the perimeter of the scene. Reynolds seemed to have lost it. He was kicking and screaming at the FBI agents, and seemed to be trying to magic the inn to the ground. Must have been someone in there that’s got him in a twist , thought Samuel.

  Finally, once the scene had been relatively eased out, and a horribly bloody pair of soul-mates were dragged out of the inn after a seemingly dead woman in scarlet, Samuel shrugged and went home. He had been thinking it was time to get off of meth anyways, he didn’t want Reynolds to control his life.

  He made it to his home, then called out to his wonderful soul-mate.

  “Hey, Georgie, I’m home!”

  George William Frederick, or ‘King George’, as the streets called him, came out of the bathroom with a grin on his face. He finished doing up his fly, then said, “Well, welcome home, honey!”

  “Tomorrow’s our wedding!” squealed Samuel, a grin spreading itself across his face like a butterfly’s wings out of a cocoon.

  “Oh, I know, it’ll be the best day of our lives!” cried George. “There’ll be cake, and everyone will be there! Oh, I actually made a deal with the local music place, just down the way. If they give us all of their stuff to rent for tomorrow, I won’t have the whole of the Redcoats burn their little shop down. I was very persuasive!”

  “Oh, Georgie,” cooed Samuel, “you’re always persuasive!”

  “Awe, thank you, love of mine!”

  “Any time, love of mine!”

  Yep, Samuel loved being the soul-mate to a huge underground crime boss; it just meant that they could do anything without having to pay what normal people paid. Life was going to be amazing once Samuel and George were married, he just knew it!

Chapter Text

Lafayette got up out of bed. He had gotten a good sleep, (or at least a relatively okay sleep, considering the circumstances) and was now ready for a full day. That was good, because today was going to be a very long day.

  He had apparently, yesterday, accumulated a very large speeding ticket. He’d thought that he had skipped all of the police and jumped all the cameras on his way to the hospital, but apparently, no such luck. Actually, as his luck would have it, he was caught on television speeding through downtown, so the police had physical proof of his infraction of the law.

  Lafayette sighed. He was still tired, somehow, and he had to go to the bank to get the money he needed transferred. Then, he needed to rush of to the White House to get in a meeting with a foreign French and Spanish ambassador, being the acting Secretary of State for Jefferson. This entire day was going to be a pain.

  As he hopped into his car, he sincerely hoped that today would have a little more mercy on him than yesterday.

John’s heart and head hurt. He wished he could just turn in and go to bed. But of course, no.

  Alexomas was being a bit of a pain. He wasn’t getting anywhere near the amount of sleep He should have been getting, oftentimes being found at the window just as the sun comes up or dips down. Then, His wounds haven’t been getting better very fast, and in fact are taking way longer than they should. Lafayette and Hercules keep asking John, being the second doctor over Alexomas, when the pair of soul-mates will make it out. All he can even do, it seems, is shrug and turn away.

  But the hardest part was that John, just before Alexander managed to punch Jefferson that day, had been planning on asking Alexander out again, with the excuse of, “It might work this time!”

  He loved the man. How could he not? Ever since Alexomas came into being, he’d tried to stay away from anywhere that the pair were. He didn’t want the emotional pain. He didn’t want to face his feelings. It’s not very supportive when all you can do when you see a friend is cry.

  John also had very strong feelings towards Jefferson, but in a different sense. He hated Jefferson, with a burning passion. If it had only been Jefferson to come to the hospital, and not Alexander, he would have just let the wretched rich boy rot. But you can’t just do that when the love of your life, who isn’t even you soul-mate , is emotionally and physically hung up on the man you’d rather see dead.

  Before this incident, John, Lafayette and Hercules had been subject to rant after rant from Alexander about just what a horrible human being Jefferson was. Alexander would always go off on all the things Jefferson was doing wrong, and on multiple occasions, when he was extremely red in the face, had very loudly proclaimed that he hated the Secretary of State. John had even done his research and found out that not even eight months after Jefferson’s wife left him for the afterlife, he’d had intercourse with another woman, even making her bare six of his children. How could this ridiculously flawed and horrible man be the soul-mate to heavenly Alexander, when John was right there, ready to love Alexander with all his heart? John had one answer.

  The universe hated him.

  The entire universe had a vendetta against him, and this was just one of the ways it’s decided it will destroy John. He sighed and looked down at the very full clipboard in his hands.

  So here he was. He was one of the two main doctors for Alexomas, and Alexomas had decided, on John’s shift, that he’d get up and walk around. John knew that they were in the midst of the Separation Phase, and part of that Phase was that the pair would start to become more separate people, doing individual interests that one half liked that the other might not, as much. The other side of the coin, for the Separation Phase, was that it meant soul-mates discovered what both of them enjoyed doing more than basically anything else. That thing seemed to be stargazing, for Alexomas.

  John’s heart hurt every time he saw them at the window. They looked so perfect, they way they held each other. Alexander and Jefferson were like puzzle pieces when the stood at the window, and so far, they seemed to fit perfectly. Alexander had a place on Jefferson’s shoulder, and Jefferson had a place around Alexander’s waist. Going from there, the two magically popped together, like they were meant to be. Soul-mates. They were meant to be together.

  Tonight, John found them in a different room. They’d found a chair, and a low window, and were gazing at something past the glass. They had a thoughtful look on their faces, though they seemed to be slightly different than the other. They’d found a candlestick, somehow , and it gave their little section of space a soft, warm lighting. Tonight, Alexomas was holding onto Himself, as though He was contemplating something monumental.

  John couldn’t disturb their peace. He never could. Instead, he leaned against the door frame silently, watching Alexomas, taking in the very domestic sight. It was so picture perfect, John wished he’d brought his phone. After a while, the sun started to come up, and with it, so did Alexomas’s facial features. They became more relaxed, more happy. John had always loved Alexander’s smile, though he wasn’t so sure about Jefferson’s. Jefferson’s smile looked like a fox’s, right before it jumps into the chicken coop.

  The sun lit up their hair, and for a second, they both looked like blazing redheads. From the angle that John stood, it almost looked like Alexomas went back a few hundred years. They looked like they could have started the nation, they looked like they could have been founding fathers, and the way to sun bounced off their skin made them look like a pair of pale white men. Alexander’s nose seemed to be rather long, and Jefferson’s jaw seemed to square.

  But it was only for a second, as the sun quickly slipped out of that perfect angle, and they returned to looking just like they normally did. John blinked, fascinated by the odd change the sun had given them.

  “Hey, John.”

  John jumped six feet in the air, eyes bugging out of his face with a loud yelp. He held his hand over his heart and bent over, suddenly tried from the immense adrenalin rush he’d just received. Finally, he looked up and met the eyes of Alexomas in the window reflection. He hadn’t moved an inch, and John had just assumed He hadn’t seen him.

  “Uh, hey, Alexomas,” John said awkwardly. He still didn’t really know how to talk to Alexomas. He wished it was just him and Alexander, talking to Alexander was always easy.

  “Are you here to take me back to my bed?” Alexomas asked simply, sounding slightly more like Jefferson.

  John let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, then replied. “Um, yeah. Sorry, but you can’t just be wandering the halls. Other patients don’t like the pacing.”

  “Alright.”

  Alexomas got up from His place at the window without much of a struggle, then followed John towards His room. After a couple seconds of silence, Alexomas spoke up again, sounding a lot more like Jefferson now.

  “I know you hate me. I don’t really blame you, I stole your love. I’m sorry, Dr. Laurens.”

  John was shocked by this apology. He looked up at the soul-mates, looking for some kind of hint that it was just a foxish joke Jefferson was trying to pull on him, but he found complete honesty in Alexomas’s eyes, even though they were looking away. John swallowed, then looked away.

  “Just John will be fine. And, uhm… it’s, it’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not,” replied Alexomas, “I know that look. I know that the memory I got it from is his. I don’t even remember my own names, John, I’m sorry.”

  John was still shocked about the conversation, but he took in a breath, then stopped Alexomas to look at Him in the eyes. It was harder than he thought, because Jefferson was tall.

  “Look at me, Alexomas, look at me. Just because I was upset then, and might still be upset now, doesn’t mean I can’t get over it and move on,” yes it does , “because wallowing in the past sucks. In fact, do you want to know what your names were? Because I can tell you, and everything’ll be fine.” No it won’t . “You might even remember faster.”

  Alexomas seemed to contemplate John’s suggestion. His face twisted up into uncertainty, and He seemed really swayed by John’s words. Then uncertainty changed to a calmer look of realisation and almost thankfulness. John forgot that both Alexander and Jefferson were politicians.

  “I… would like to know what I was called, but I know you’ll still hate me,” Alexomas said softly.

  “I could never hate you, I-”

  “No, you could never hate one half of me. You hate the other. You hate J.”

  John sighed. Alexomas was right. Alexomas was right just like how Alexander was always right. “Okay. You’re sure you’re not going to break down at the sound of your names?”

  Alexomas shook His head. “Can’t make any promises.”

  John took a deep breath, then let it out, as though he were doing Yoga. “Well, here goes. You’re… um, shorter side? Is that what you’re calling it?”

  “H. I’m calling it H. The other side is J.”

  “Right. H’s real name, before the incident, was named Alexander Hamilton. Are… are you okay?”

  Alexomas had winced, hard, but seemed to be recovering quickly.

  “Alexander…” whispered Alexomas. Except, Alexomas didn’t whisper it. Jefferson did. It was a completely different set of mouth movements from Alexander’s, and it wasn’t tied at all together.

  Alexander had whispered his last name, as though it were a foreign word that he wanted to memorize. There was a hint of anger behind his whisper, and almost a touch of forlornness. It almost made John want to cry.

  After a moment, Alexomas seemed to register John’s words, and nodded. “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine. I’m fine, John, I’ll be fine, in… in a second…”

  “A-alright, do you want me to continue?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, okay, well, J, right? J’s names Thomas Jefferson.”

  Another sharp inhalation, and a small gasp from H. This time, the name saying was switched. Alexander whispered Jefferson’s first name, and Jefferson whispered his last.

  Then, Alexomas’s eyes dilated, and He stood completely still. He seemed unstable, but when John went to try and steady Him, He spasmed out of the way, both bodies jumping away. As soon as they jumped away, the most crazy thing happened.

  They let go .

  They stood about three feet from each other, standing as straight as a beanpole and stock still, almost as though they were scared to move. Alexander started to shiver, looking like he was freezing, while Jefferson started to sweat, as though he were heating up. They both started looking very uncomfortable, and soon were moving back together, not bearing to be apart any longer.

  Once they were together again, John asked, “Wow, you really are deep into the Separation Phase, huh? Are you feeling alright? Are you feeling sick, or anything?”

  John had shifted back to doctor mode, shoving all of his feelings about how upsetting it was to see Alexander so cold-looking. He had a job to do, and he shouldn’t be getting all worked up about this type of thing anyways.

  Alexomas seemed to gain His senses again, and shook His heads. They shifted back into being basically in perfect sync. “I-I think I am, y-yeah…”

  “Here, come along, Alexomas,” said John gently, as his mind screamed at him to care for the pair of soul-mates, or at least Alexander.

  “Okay…” He said, and slowly John and Alexomas made it back to Alexomas’s room.

  By the way John saw Alexomas eyeing the window across His room, he knew that he’d find the pair of soul-mates at the window again that evening. John sighed. Live and let live. Love and let love.

Chapter Text

There was nothing like summer in the city, even if everybody seemed to be in a rush. At least, that’s what Aaron Burr thought. It also seemed like everybody connected to Alexomas wanted him to know the soul-mates on a deep psychological basis.

  Aaron didn’t know a thing about soul-mates. He’d also rather stay in a cabinet meeting listening to Hamilton and Jefferson fire off proverbial missiles at each other than learn about them. But oh wait , he can’t do that alternative now, because the two of them are bloody soul-mates . Joy.

  Aaron sighed. There was still a lot he didn't know about Hamilton, some things of which he’d rather not know. He’d hoped that Hamilton would have at least gotten a soul-mate that didn't hate him. He’d have to destroy Jefferson if he did anything Hamilton didn't like.

  Aaron frowned as he made his way into the hospital. Just because he and Hamilton weren’t really on speaking terms doesn't mean they aren't friends, no matter what everyone else says. They just have a difficult relationship, is all.

  He sighed again as he signed into the hospital and made his way up to Alexomas’s room. They just had a few formalities they had to work though, and all would be fine. Hopefully.

  The door to Alexomas’s room was cracked slightly and, because Aaron really didn’t want to barge into an emotional stand-off with anyone, Aaron did what anyone would do. He leaned in and put his eye and ear close to the crack, though far enough away that anyone inside wouldn’t see him. He eavesdropped.

   Of course , Aaron thought, eavesdrop is such a strong word, I prefer… listening in.

  Aaron looked into the room through the crack and, at first, saw nothing. The room was dark, for whatever reason (being the middle of the day), and the window was being blocked, probably by a blind. Then Aaron looked closer and realised that the object blocking the blinds was Alexomas, and that he’d turned off the lights to not get a reflection while looking out. He was mumbling to Himself, and it sounded like two voices talking to each other. They were really slipping out of sync.

  “I can’t just know , what do they expect of me anyways?”

  “I don’t know, but something’s gonna have to give, and it’s gonna have to give quick. I can’t handle this hospital for much longer. Do all soul-mates end up here?”

  “I know that I’m tired of it, why can’t it end? Is there an end to this? I don’t know.”

  “I have so many questions. There’s so much to go over.”

  “Like this one; if a sunrise rises, but no one see it, does it really actually come in full bloom? Does it actually spread it’s colours? Does it make itself all beautiful for no reason?”

  “No, it stays being beautiful, because nature loves it’s own looks too, and likes to admire it’s beauty,” said Aaron, stepping into the room, “that’s the thing with nature, it’s always so vain.”

  The soul-mates jumped, and turned to look at Aaron, unblocking the sun outside. They had similar faces of confusion and shock, until they saw Burr. Hamilton’s face morphed into on of half disgust and half joy, while Jefferson’s changed to unguarded annoyance.

  “Good afternoon, Burr,” He said at uneven times, “did you come for a reason?” It was supremely terrifying, and Aaron couldn’t get the image of the Shining twins out of his head. He shivered imperceptibly.

  “No, not really,” he said truthfully. “All of your friends want me to get to know you. I… kind of came here on a dare? But not really. It’s okay if you want me to leave, I can-”

  “No, wait,” responded Alexomas, sounding more like Hamilton than Jefferson. “It would be nice to have the company. I’ve been getting less and less visitors, and you’re just as close to me as the nurse down the hall at this point.”

  Aaron smiled slightly. “Yeah, that’s true.”

  He pulled up a seat from beside the bed and sat down beside Alexomas, looking out the window. The sun was blazing up above, and Alexomas leaned into the window, once again blocking it’s rays from the room. Aaron sighed, then copied Alexomas, getting a face-full of bright, blinding light.

  “How’s your day been, Burr?” asked Alexomas, now sounding more like Jefferson, way more official than Hamilton and definitely slightly more cold. Aaron nodded a bit.

  “Fine, I guess. I’ve been wishing and waiting for you two to come back to work. The office is boring without you two. I miss the action and the overall attention-grabbing that happened. It got me out of a lot of work.”

  Alexomas chuckled. “My goodness, did I just hear an opinion come out of your mouth? Someone call the press, that’s a first. I remember someone telling me of a time that you held up the line in SafeWay because you couldn’t decide on which coupon you wanted to get, and one of your friends, Jonathan Dayton, I think, had to swoop in and choose for you!”

  Aaron shifted slightly, laughing with Alexomas. “Oh, yeah, I remember that. I… kind of wish I got the other one, because it had a higher chance of winning!”

  There came a snort solely from Hamilton, while Jefferson continued to grin. “Really, the other one? I thought the prize on the one Dayton got for you was a pretty awesome thing to try for.”

  “Yeah, but the chances were so low !” lamented Aaron. “There was an almost zero percent chance of me winning. And guess what? I lost! It’s basically just my luck, anyways.”

  Alexomas frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Heat rising up in his face, Aaron looked away from the window and down at his feet. “I-I just mean that my luck has been rather bad as of late, it’s really no issue for you to worry about, Alexomas.”

  “That’s not true,” said the Hamilton side of Alexomas, “anything that bothers you bothers me, you know that. Like that time Washington dismissed you from being his right hand man, I thought I was in trouble. You’ve a wonderful mind, he just didn’t see it.”

  Aaron chuckled. “Why, thank you, I didn’t know you were feeling very compliment-y today. I guess I should have come in sooner, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s alright, you have a life to live,” responded Alexomas, then just Jefferson, “I’m still trying to get back to life. I’ll get there one day, hopefully soon.” Hamilton picked up Jefferson’s slack, “I heard you had a kid with Theo! How’s that?”

  Aaron started, looking at Alexomas like He was crazy. How did He know? He’d told literally no one of his daughter, none of Alexomas’s friends would have been able to tell him. Finally, he stammered out, “H-how do you know?”

  Alexomas chuckled kindly, then said, “I’m practically living in the hospital, and word gets around. You obviously used this hospital, otherwise I wouldn’t have known. Burr, be proud of your daughter, announce her to the world, because nobody else is going to do that for you. Give her a good life, make her happy.”

  With one last astonished look at Alexomas, Aaron nodded, then smiled. “Yeah, I'll… I'll try to. She’s wonderful, I wish you could see her.”

  “Isn't Theodosia still in the hospital?” asked Alexomas seriously. “Why don't we go now?”

  “Well, I, uh…” Aaron stammered, “I'm pretty sure Theo just wants some peace, you know? She just gave birth, a few days ago, I assume you know how that is, perhaps... She doesn't want to be crowded…”

  “Then one half of me will go in,” said Alexomas with all the calmness in the world.

  Aaron hesitated for a second, mulling over every single one of his choices, knowing pretty darn well that Hamilton and Jefferson would remember his choice, then laughed. “You'd do that just to see my daughter? For my wife? My, you’ve changed! Probably for the better.”

  Alexomas grinned, then said, in a very Hamiton-esque way, laced heavily with sarcasm, “Why, yes, I know, I do strive to impress, and my goal comes so naturally to me, I sometimes wonder why I worry!”

  Aaron snorted, then asked, “So? Which half gets the honour?”

  Alexomas thought for a second then looked at either’s hands. He seemed to weigh every possibility, then seemed to come to a decision. “I think… H shall be the one. Just seems to fit.”

  Aaron nodded, smiling, then said, “Well, let’s get going!”

A few moments later, Aaron walked into his wife’s holding room, holding the door to a very stiff Hamilton. He seemed awkward, seemingly not knowing what to do with himself, shivering slightly. He held himself like one who had just come out of a deep, dark cave away from humanity after a month inside, and he seemed to try his best not to just simply fall over. It seemed the whole ‘Jefferson carry Hamilton’ arrangement that had worked for the pair for a while was starting to take its tole.

  As they walked inside, Aaron immediately made eye contact with his wonderful wife, Theodosia, and smiled. She looked deathly pale, but she was always so calm and collected, willing to smile and make others feel appreciated any chance she got. He was so lucky to have her.

  He made his way over to her, Hamilton following closely behind, and said, “Hey, Theo, how are you? I hope Teddy’s doing alright, you’ve got to be the best mother she could have ever gotten.”

  Theodosia blushed, turning her smiling face away from him and hiding it in her shoulder, then said, “Oh, Aaron, really! I’m quite okay, better with you here, but the real question is how are you? And who’s our visitor? I assume he’s here for our little girl?”

  Aaron looked over his shoulder at Hamilton, who had creeped up to the bedside, and said, “Yes, he does want to see Theo II, he’s apparently heard of her. He’s staying here too, for different reasons. And he’s actually the, um, coworker I’ve told you about, though not quite, because he’s, well… found his soulmate, and hasn’t gotten over.”

  Theodosia widened her eyes and mouth in understanding, then nodded. “Oh, yes, of course! You’ve shown me pictures, I should have… yes, of course! Hello, there, darling, would you like to hold Teddy?”

  Aaron made to say that Hamilton was quite in the right mind to hold a baby, especially not their baby, but Hamilton’s face lit up like a Christmas tree, and before Aaron could stop him, nodded with a not-so-subtle, “Yes, yes, I’d love to!”

  Theodosia smiled at his excitement, and, while handing Theodosia II over, commented with a wink to Aaron, “I know, it’s not every day that you see such a stunning little baby girl, is it?”

  Hamilton hastily agreed, then ever-so-gently held Teddy in his arms, cradling her and cooing at her. He was surprisingly good with the baby, careful but not too careful, and Aaron couldn’t help but think that, maybe in another life, he’d had had enough experience with a child to know how to handle one.

  Finally, Teddy seemed to realise that the person holding her wasn’t her mother, or at least, wasn’t someone who was about to give her milk, and started to whine. Hamilton, with great reluctance, handed Teddy back, softly cooing a final goodbye, and placed her in Theodosia’s arms, who took a bottle from the side.

  Answering Hamilton’s confused look as to why she wasn’t just breastfeeding Teddy, Theodosia said, “I can’t produce enough milk, we found that out rather early on, from our doctor.”

  Hamilton’s eyes softened. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Burr, I wish there was something for me to do for you…”

  “Oh, please, just Theodosia will do!” chuckled Theodosia. “And honestly, there’s nothing you could do anyways, so don’t fret about it. I don’t want you to pity me for something you can’t change, it’s just how life is.”

  Hamilton smiled at that, and Aaron couldn’t help the smile that seemed to chase Hamilton’s on his own face. There was something infectious about that boyish grin he put on, and it spread around the room. Theodosia smiled, then the doctor in the back of the room, monitoring Theodosia’s health, smiled. The room itself seemed to become all in all more brighter, more warm, more generally happy .

  Finally, Hamilton’s grin died down, and he said, “So, what is it like, to have a child? Do they really take precedence over everything that you do?”

  “Yeah, kinda,” giggled Theodosia, “though I haven’t been able to get out of the hospital to really know for sure, so I’m sorry for not answering your question with a true, straight answer! I bet your soulmate could give you a better answer.”

  At that, Hamilton’s face went blank, and he spaced off. Aaron waved a hand in front of his face, and snapped his fingers, but nothing seemed to get his attention. It was almost like he was on autopilot.

  Hamilton seemed stuck for awhile, his face blank while he blinked slowly, then his eyes widened. He gasped, putting his hand over his mouth, then breathed out, “Oh my Lord, it was… Burr, I’m not… I’m not one, I’m just, I’ve got…”

  There was a moment of silence, in which Theodosia seemed slightly awkward, then Hamilton cried, “I’ve been thinking that I have some form of ghost in my room but in reality, I’ve just been thinking about myself! Burr, I think I might… might be two people!”

  Aaron widened his own eyes, then said, “Wait, you are? You’re quite certain, you’re not just saying this because you’re away from Jefferson?”

  Hamilton shook his head vigorously, then grinned like a fox. “Burr! I’m me! I’m myself, I have only one past, two arms, one head, ten fingers and a reasonable amount of hair! I-I… I can see into Jefferson’s head and oh my God Jefferson’s my soulmate.”

  Hamilton’s grin slipped as his knees hit the floor, landing him in a kneal. He looked up at Aaron, who looked back down at him, and whispered, “Burr, have you ever had such conflicting feelings that everything in your body just shuts down?”

  Aaron frowned in thought. “No, I don’t think I can say I have, why?”

  Hamilton opened his mouth, then promptly fainted.

Chapter Text

Alexander woke up to a horrible feeling of nausea on his own couch with John Laurens above him, talking to Lafayette and Hercules Mulligan while in the background, he could hear Aaron Burr and James Madison. The tight little living room that he shared with Hercules, John and Lafayette generally didn’t let more than four people stand in it, so he assumed Burr and Madison were in the other room.

  Alexander groaned, soft enough not to think anyone heard it, but loud enough that everyone did anyways. Immediately, John was at his side, putting a cold cloth on his forehead and whispering comforting words in his ear.

  As he tried to lift his head, Alexander was hit with a massive headache, and he shut his eyes tight as he was gently laid back onto the couch. The armrest under his head was not the most comfortable thing in the world, but it was better than nothing, and anything to sooth the pounding in his head was worth a shot.

  “Mon amie, let him be,” said Lafayette’s soft voice, “if he wants up, who’re you to stop him?”

  “He needs the rest, Laf,” came Hercules’s soft, thunder-like voice, soothing to the ears and soft on the mind, “Burr said that he just fainted. I think he’s come out of the Separation Phase, now the two just need to get used to each other or completely avoid each other. And you know, I think I know which one he’ll go for.”

  There was a murmured agreement, then Alexander was hit with a wave of nausea, not unlike how he woke up just a few moments ago. He screwed his eyes even tighter, and John voice sounded decidedly more worried as he whispered, “Hey, Alex, are you… you okay?”

  Alexander shook his head slowly and carefully as, with his eyes closed, he saw a second point of view outside of his control. He knew that whoever was on the other side could also see his view, not that there was much to see.

  Through the second point of view, he could see Burr and Madison, from a different angle, and the Schuyler sisters, who were only just coming out from the small bathroom.

  Alexander opened his eyes again, looking over to where Madison and Burr stood, and saw that they were just going into his bedroom. He frowned, then realised that John, Lafayette and Hercules were still talking to him.

  “... he is okay- oh, wait look! He opened his eyes again,” cheered Hercules quietly, “John, check his eyes, there’s nothing wrong, right? He seems a little out of it, he’ll be fine soon, right?”

  “Herc, worrying is going to get us nowhere,” said John in a very professional, very doctor-like voice, “and yes, he’ll be fine. He just seems to have a headache. Is that right, Alex? Just a headache, or is there something more?”

  Alexander tried to respond, and opened his mouth, but no sound came out as he was hit by emotions that were not his own. He knew, for a fact , that these outside emotions were not his own, and yet he felt them, hard . There was a lot of confusion, mirroring Hamilton’s own confused thoughts and feelings, but there was also buried ones, too. There was one specific set, which felt like it could have been emblazoned with a logo and wrapped up in neon, that Alexander could tell was about him.

  Suddenly he knew who he was sharing emotions with.

  His mouth was still open, and his friends were still watching him expectantly. Alexander didn’t give that much mind, and instead, whispered what had suddenly flooded his mind, in a very hoarse, dry voice.

  “He hates me.”

  John frowned, while Hercules and Lafayette looked confused, but suddenly it clicked, and they all got the same worried look on their faces. “Oh, Alex, he doesn’t hate you, you’re getting mixed messages-”

  “I can feel his emotions,” said Alexander, his face scrunching up, wanting to block out the signals, “I can feel it. My soul-mate hates me, Thomas Jefferson hates me, my significant other hates me, I’m unable to have another soul-mate and the one I have hates me because I made him hate me the first time we met.”

  There was a silence in quartet’s living room, just as Elizabeth and Peggy walked in. There was the hint of a conversation in his bedroom, and Alexander knew that if he shut his eyes right then, he’d be able to hear and watch that conversation. His whole being screamed at him not to shut his eyes any time soon.

  “Why did we take him out of the hospital, again?” asked Eliza in a low whisper, hoping that Alexander wouldn't hear her, not quite thinking that he was awake, even with his eyes open.

  “Because the hospital didn't think he was in as bad of a condition as before, since he can walk on his casts without flinching,” replied John in an equally quiet whisper, “and because every other doctor is a soulless monster, wanting to get as many patients out as possible, unlike me.”

  Eliza let out a small chuckle while Angelica walked into the living room, and the pit in Alexander’s heart grew and grew as he felt the constant flow of Jefferson’s emotions. His head started to hurt more, his eyes hurt from not blinking, and suddenly a small sound, almost whimper, came from his mouth. “He hates me, he hates me so much. And you know what?”

  The room seemed to freeze, as Alexander looked up at Lafayette, John, Hercules, Eliza, Angelica and Peggy with what felt like horror. His throat felt like sandpaper when he opened his mouth next, his eyes wide and his face pale.

  “I hate him too.”

  Hercules leaned against the doorframe of the living room across from Madison while John and Eliza stayed with Alexander. Lafayette had gone into Jefferson’s borrowed room after Hercules, and now stood just outside, beside Madison. Hercules was staring at the floor, thinking things over.

   They don’t realise that they don’t hate each other, though Hercules, a frown creasing his forehead. They never liked each other, but they never hated each other. How do we get them out of this?

  After a few seconds, in which Alexander stayed on the couch, being whispered to by John, and Jefferson - or should it be Thomas, now? - laid down on the bed in Alexander’s room, being comforted by Burr, who had been given a death stare by Madison (obviously, Madison and Burr had a system that they comforted Thomas, and Hercules absentmindedly wondered how in the world they had developed such a system), Alexander got up abruptly from the couch, making John yelp in surprise.

  Hercules looked up quickly and quietly from his starring spot on the floor, and was met with a very determined-looking Alexander. His face was set in a way the screamed that he had decided on something, and by the looks of where he was going, Alexander was headed to John’s room. That meant only one thing.

  Alexander was going to write something that would turn out to be a very elegantly written and unintentional book, then write a second, just because he was too stressed to do anything else.

  Hercules let him pass, while Madison gave him a questioning look, and Lafayette frowned even more intently at his own spot on the floor. Soon, Hercules heard the sound of a door closing gently down the small hall. The voices in Alexander’s room, which came from Burr and Thomas, stopped abruptly, and Burr peaked out the door.

  “Is everything alright?” he asked, a look of slight worry crossing his features.

  Hercules nodded, kicking off the doorframe he was leaning on. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I’m going to go check on Alex, you keep… doing what you’re doing, ‘kay? You seem to be doing okay, so keep doing that.”

  John jogged after Hercules as he started for the former’s room, while the Schuyler sisters gathered around each other and started whispering. He stopped at the spot where Hercules had originally been standing, and Hercules hesitated halfway down the hall, waiting for John to speak.

  When he didn’t, Hercules sighed. “John, I know what you’re thinking. But you’ve got to understand that right now really isn’t the best time to be digging into your own emotions about Alex. These two,” he gestured at both bedroom doors, “are going through a lot of emotional pain, and need supportive friends. When this has at least settled a little bit, I’ll make sure that my room is empty of any peepers, and you can express how upset you are at the universe all you want, okay?”

  John shuffled a little bit, and from the little snort Lafayette gave, Hercules assumed that John got the message. He continued down the hall, and stood in front of the office door for a few seconds before knocking.

  The silence in the little home was horrifying. Generally, silence had always meant that Alexander was either at work, doing unnecessary overtime, was at some work-related dinner, or was ill. The latter lasted usually between a week or half the year, and Alexander would work through it anyways.

  But this time, the silence was different. It was a new and unexplored silence, and it gave Hercules shivers. There was nothing quite like waiting for a friend to come back as themself after them being someone or something else for so long. The silence was uneasy.

  As Hercules pondered these thoughts, there came a muffled, “Go away,” from Alexander, and Hercules rolled his eyes. He grabbed the handle and turned anyways, pushing into the office with minimal effort.

  Alexander sat hunched over John’s desk, writing with an old-fashioned quill at a pace that only people from the era of quills could match. Hercules had been inside John’s room multiple times, but he’d never really realised that John had kept a separate part of his room sectioned off in case Alexander needed someplace besides his own room to go. It was a nice thought, and Hercules smiled, though he noted all the dust that had collected upon Alexander’s space.

  Alexander’s quill stopped for just a second, long enough for him to look over his shoulder and glace at Hercules. Once he did, he gave a small, annoyed grunt, then went back to writing. Hercules sighed, then went to his side.

  “You know,” Hercules thought out loud, “I bet, if you two lived together for just one month, he’s realise just how wonderful you are, and you might see the wonderfulness in him.”

  Alexander sighed, then put down his quill. He turned towards Hercules in his chair, and said in a very clear voice, “He hates me, and I hate him. There’s nothing to fix, because we had nothing in the first place. Living together isn't going to fix that.”

  Hercules walked forward and held a hand under Alexander’s chin, forcing the smaller man to look Hercules in the eyes. “I think it will. It won’t be a permanent thing, and you won’t stay here, in our crowded apartment. You two can go to Monticello, it has plenty of room for you to be separated - if you so feel like that is the right choice. Besides, after one month, if you still think that the two of you hate each other, then you can come back here and continue your stance on how absolutely horrible soul-mates are, alright?”

  A grin tugged at Alexander’s lips as he gave a slight nod. “Yeah, sure, whatever, Herc. Only one month, though, right? That’s 29-31 days, so 29-31 nights, that I get to exploit Monticello’s huge database of books.”

  Hercules rolled his eyes, then patted Alexander on his shoulder. “Come on, then, pack up your stuff. You’ll want all of your writing things, and probably a few newspaper prompts, because I can tell you right now, you’ll be eating your words, and saying that soul-mates are actually pretty great. I can almost guarantee!”

  “Oh yeah? Is that a guarantee or your money back? Because I’ll need that quote unquote ‘money’ back, Herc, you can bet on it,” said Alexander, already standing and moving to pick up his stuff. Hercules smiled.

  He could handle Alexander, he’d known him for a very long time. He knew what got Alexander going, and he knew how to use that to his advantage, without exploiting his friend. Now, talking Thomas into it might be a different story, but he was sure that he could sway Madison and Burr into liking the idea, and they would be able to talk Thomas into it. Not too much of a huge issue, it was something that could be worked around.

  As he left John’s room to the sound of Alexander stuffing paper after paper into a bag he found, he caught Madison’s attention and told him the plan. Madison readily agreed, saying that it would also be good if the two of them knew each other more than just annoying coworkers that they had to plan every detail around.

  Madison picked up a phone and called Washington, wanting him to know about the plan, and know that he needed to keep the interns a little bit longer, then snuck into Alexander’s room to talk to Thomas about it.

  Hercules took a breath, then walked outside the crowded apartment, waving to the Schuyler sisters, who were still whispering together (now with John and Lafayette joined in on the whispering), saying he needed a breath of fresh air.

  The evening air was crisp, the sound of cars going to a fro very prominent. There was honking and pigeons cooing, making Hercules feel at home. When he’d first moved to New York, way back when, from Colerain, he’d thought the city was way too bustling, full of too many lights and not enough trees. Now, as he walked a couple of blocks away from the Revolutionary Hub, the small breezes that came from the clouded sky were welcomed.

  After a couple more blocks, Hercules got a call. He checked the caller ID, and, seeing his phone didn’t recognize it, answered it with trepidation. “Uh, hello? Hercules Mulligan speaking.”

  There was a few seconds of silence on the line, and just before he was about to hang up, a familiar voice with an Austrian accent spoke up. “Oh, um, yes, hello, Mr. Mulligan! Sorry, you told me I could call you if I found some stuff? I know you’ve already wrapped up the incident a long time ago, I just… wanted to check up? Since you were one of the ones to get rid of Reynolds.”

  Mulligan thought for a second before things clicked. “Oh, Mr. Mozart! Of course, hello! Yes, we found who we were looking for, they’re doing alright now. Why do you call, sir? Just out of the goodness of your heart?”

  There came a few chuckles from the other end of the line, then Mozart said, “Sort of. You see, good sir, Reynolds was the type of man to use everyone in his vacinity, and he just so happened to hear that I was a good instrumentalist. He took that into thought, and, well, you can probably piece together the rest. I’m just thankful to your, um, ‘team’, that you took him away. There will always be people like that around, but, you know, one less person like that, the better everything seems to be.”

  “That is true,” said Hercules, adding his own couple of chuckles. Then he checked the time, and said, “I’m sorry to cut our talk off so short, but I need to be getting back home. It would be lovely if you would call again, and don’t hesitate to report anything to me, okay?”

  “Yeah, okay,” replied Mozart, with a slight smile in his voice. Then, the line went dead, and Hercules turned on his heel, heading back to the apartment. Hopefully, Alexander and Thomas could get things sorted out, it couldn't be that hard, especially since they’d been stuck together for almost two months.

  Hercules crossed his fingers and hoped for the best.

Chapter Text

Thomas stood in front of Monticello, a small aching in his chest. He had to spend the next whole month in his own house, trapped and unable to leave, with Alexander Hamilton, his soul-mate, and a man who hated him with his very being. This was not going to be fun.

  Hamilton, Thomas knew, had made it to Monticello two hours ago, having only stayed at his and his friend’s apartment for the required eight hours of sleep they had demanded of him. Thomas had had the respect to stay and enjoy some of Laurens’s and Lafayette’s combined wonderful cooking.

  As he looked up at his huge home, he wondered if there would ever be a time when he and Hamilton would be able to make any form of positive relationship work. Obviously, as his head filled with Hamilton’s emotions and feelings towards him, that time was not close.

  He sighed, then walked up to his door, his car still stuffed with suitcases that he’d bring in later. The door was still in tacked, that was a good sign. Hamilton would have brought devastation to the hinges had he been in a foul mood. At least if he was in an okay mood, they could make at least small banter over a short dinner.

  Thomas opened the door, and stood in the entranceway, breathing in the smell of his home. There was so many memories that he’d packed into this building, so many thoughts, good and bad, that he’d had, and so many people that he’d invited to stay. When he first bought the huge house, his first thought, for sure, had not been that he would one day bring his worst political rival here. Oh well, he thought, every day you do something new.

  He made his way to the kitchen, hoping to find a snack before he had to deal with Hamilton’s sass. There were a lot of things he’d love to do with his time while in his kitchen, but being confronted by Hamilton and having an argument where knives were readily available was not on the top of the list.

  He thought about where Hamilton might be in the huge expanse of a home, and came to the conclusion that he must, must be in the library, unless something was going on. He thus decided, having found some honey and pemmican, that he’s finish up his snack and go to lie down. If Hamilton needed something, he could simply close his eyes and take a guess as to which bedroom Thomas was in.

  After a good minute of eating/humming and hawing in the kitchen, Thomas finally put the small plate he’d taken out in the sink, and left the kitchen.

  He hadn’t taken the time to check where Hamilton actually was, so Thomas walked towards the closest bedroom from the kitchen, thinking it to be empty, only to be startled out of his thoughts by the sound of sniffling and small yowls of pain. He started to worry about Hamilton, being the only other person in Monticello with him, and so jogged the rest of the distance to the bedroom door.

  Opening it quickly, he was met with the sight of Hamilton on the edge of the bed, his face covered in tears, wrapped up in one of the thick blankets, his nose pouring out blood. He seemed to be having a panic attack because of the blood coming from his nose, which dumped down his lips and chin, cascading around his hands, ending up in his lap and on the blanket/bed.

  Thomas quickly jumped into action, running into the bathroom just outside the bedroom, back the way he’d come, as Hamilton choked on blood and tears, seemingly diving deeper into his panic attack with Thomas there. Thomas grabbed the tissue box from beside the sink, then ran back into the bedroom, beelining it to Hamilton’s side. Hamilton flinched away from Thomas’s touch, but eventually let him put the tissue into his nose, digging his nails into his palms as he pulled his legs to his chest.

  Once the flood of blood slowed down, and Hamilton calmed down enough to ease his shaking hands into holding the tissue in place, Thomas asked, “What happened here, Hamilton? Are you okay?”

  For a few seconds, Hamilton didn’t respond, concentrating his attention on getting rid of the blood. Then he made eye contact with Thomas, and said, very clearly and honestly, “I-I went into one of the other bedrooms, and got scared by a row of pictures falling. They fell in unison because they were connected by a string, which I found out about a couple seconds after, but before that, I had been kind of studying the design of the desk. The pictures fell, and it spooked me, so my body jolted and I hit my face on the corner of the desk. You know, that sharper part at the bottom?”

  Thomas nodded, only then noticed the long, even cut along Hamilton’s left cheek, which was still swelling. Hamilton continued to describe what happened, his voice starting to slowly even out as he forced himself to calm down.

  “So, then I tried to stunt the bleeding, but my nose hurt so much, same as my cheek, and I ran in here, because I noticed that you’d gotten here from my place, ya know, because I closed my eyes for too long, and then I freaked out because I didn’t want you to see me like this; so torn down over a stupid bloody nose. Then I came up here and tried to stop it without going anywhere, and then you came in suddenly and it spooked me even more.”

  Thomas listened to Hamilton relay everything that happened, and even though he knew that the other man hated him, he couldn’t bring himself to make fun of him. So instead, he laid a hand on his shoulder, which Hamilton glanced at in surprise, and said, “Well, I’m here now, would you like me to get you something for your cheek, or anything?”

   Hamilton thought for a second, and Thomas could practically feel, in his own mind, the cogs turning in his head. Then, he nodded slowly, putting a hand on Thomas’s. It was a small gesture, but it meant that Hamilton was accepting his worry. Thomas shivered slightly at the kindness the two of them were showing.

   Thomas was sure that before the day was out, this calm, kind atmosphere would be broken by a screaming match of some form.

At some point, both Thomas and Hamilton realised they needed to have dinner, and at about 7 something o’clock, Thomas emerged from the kitchen holding a pot of chicken noodle soup that he had found in the pantry. Because of his adventures in the pantry, Thomas had realised that he needed to go shopping.

   Hamilton had stayed very far away from the pantry, giving the excuse that Elizabeth and Laurens had always said his cooking skills were beyond horrible. Thomas had simply smiled at that, knowing full well that if he tried to push the matter any further, and force Hamilton into the kitchen, things would go badly.

   Dinner was quiet, and neither one of the two house\soul-mates looked up at each other, wanting to avoid confrontation for as long as possible until they were at least in the vicinity of their friends again.

   Soon after all the food was taken care of, Hamilton slinked off, excusing himself with mumbling something about a shower. Thomas let him go, still not wanting to start anything when the air was so electric between them.

   Thomas soon found himself bored, and decided to wander around his mansion of a home. He had no idea where Hamilton had gone to take a shower, so he attempted to avoid any rooms with showers in them.

   He came up on a slightly loose painting and, upon taking it down, discovered an almost-secret passage. It would have been truly secret if the painting hadn’t been hanging at an odd angle, and there hadn’t been so many scuff marks around the base. Thomas absentmindedly wondered how he’d never stumbled across this hallway before.

   He could see the corner where the hall turned, leading to an exit. It was quite the walk, but that didn’t bother Thomas as much as the cobwebs lining the walls and ceiling. If anyone had used this passage lately, the least they could have done was dusted off the corners where bugs and spiders had made their home.

   As Thomas rounded the corner on shaking legs, eyeing the cobwebs wearily, he heard a soft melody make its way to his ears. It was quiet, and Thomas found it was coming from in a bathroom connected to the hall, where he didn’t even know he had a shower. It could only have been Hamilton, and Thomas crept closer, hoping beyond hope that Hamilton couldn’t tell that he was there. He didn’t want to get any more negative emotions from the man, especially not from him being a Peeping Tom.

  As he got closer, he started hearing the song in its echo-y bathroom glory, and Thomas had to admit, Hamilton truly had the voice of an angel. If he’d been with Thomas in his high school’s choral club, the other man would have definitely rivaled him as top student.

  “Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow, you’re always a day away,” sang Hamilton, the water’s constant sound creating a sound barrier. Thomas recognized the song from Annie, and decided to take a chance, leaving the secret hall in favour of opening the proper door to the bathroom.

   Hamilton stopped singing, and for a second, Thomas worried that he’d made Hamilton cold, by allowing outside air into the shower. Then Hamilton picked up a different song, and Thomas was struck with the thought of maybe Hamilton don’t like being on bad terms with his soul-mate.

   “I don’t like walking around this old and empty house, so hold my hand I’ll walk with you, my dear…” he sang, singing quieter than before, deepening his voice for every second verse. Thomas snuck inside the bathroom, then leaned against the wall, closing his eyes so he could simply listen to Hamilton.

   It felt like an hour until Hamilton finally stopped singing, turning off the shower. He started to hum a different tune, then pulled a towel from behind the shower curtain. After a minute in which Thomas reveled in Hamilton’s singing, Hamilton threw the towel back out of the tub, landing it into the general area of where he would be placing his feet, then got out.

   Thomas opened his eyes, and was greeted by an eyeful, as Hamilton still seemed to refuse to acknowledge Thomas’s presence. Thomas widened his eyes, then scrunched them closed, angling his head determinably away from Hamilton’s body.

   Thomas listened to Hamilton humming in the mirror for a couple of seconds, until he seemed to feel Thomas’s discomfort, and was snapped out of his happy shower time. He looked up and around him for a second, before his eyes landed on a heavily blushing Thomas.

   The scream he let out was inhuman as he covered himself up as best he could with just his hands, his hair practically standing on end, while Thomas shielded his face with one of his own hands (though he made no move to leave, being petrified by guilt).

   After a good minute of high-pitched velociraptor screeching, Hamilton finally got his wits back together and scrambled to grab his towel, all the while yelling at Thomas. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, you bird-brained idiot?! What do you want so badly that you needed to come in and sneak up on me while I’m in the shower?!”

   Thomas turned slightly, not wanting to face Hamilton only covered in a towel, and replied, “Because I heard you singing in the shower, and I wanted to hear what you sounded like, okay? You have a wonderful voice and I think you should show it off more, that’s all.”

   Hamilton shuffled around behind Thomas, and he could only imagine how red Hamilton was, both from blushing and anger. There was a pause, then Hamilton spoke up again. “Yeah, well, you didn’t have to be so creepy if you just wanted to hear my voice.”

   Thomas turned back slightly so he could make eye contacted with Hamilton from the corner of his eye, his hand still up, and smirked slightly. “But that takes any point of listening to you out. As soon as you knew I was here, you would have stopped, I guarantee you.”

   Hamilton scoffed, turning back to the mirror, and held his chin in his hand, turning his face slightly to go along with his hand. “No, I wouldn’t… besides, I don’t have all that good a voice, you’re just trying to make me blush. Now is that all you need? If so, let me finish up in here in peace.”

   “Psh,” snorted Thomas, turning his whole face away again, “if I was trying, you would be holding your face in your hands right now. And now that I think about it, yeah, there is something else.”

   There was a pause, in which Thomas could only assume Hamilton glanced over at Thomas, and Thomas was flooded with confused and embarrassed feelings from the other man. “Um, okay, what else do you need? If it’s anything revealing, you can leave right now, the door is right there.”

   “No, it’s not anything revealing, I don’t do that to anyone I’m not dating yet. No, I was wondering, maybe we could, you know, stop being so angry at each other? We could, like, watch a movie, or something, in the living room by the front door. You know, since we’re kind of in this together, we might as well suck it up. Only if you’re up to it, though, I don’t want to pressure you into it, if you don’t want to.”

   Another pause filled the bathroom, and Thomas looked over his shoulder enough to see Hamilton staring at him in shock. Then he said, “Did… did you really just ask me if watching a movie was outside of my comfort zone?”

   “Err, yeah, I’m not going to be cruel to you, since we’re stuck in this building together for another couple of weeks,” replied Thomas, returning to the deep blush that had cascaded across his dark features.

   Hamilton chuckled a bit, then said, “Get out of my bathroom, I’ll meet you in the living room in a couple of minutes. But I demand to choose the movie, if we’re doing this, okay? Whenever it was movie night with Laf, John and Herc, they’d always find something before I got a say, because I could never choose quick enough, so I’m choosing tonight.”

   Thomas smiled slightly, relieving some of his anxiety, then nodded quickly. “Yeah, yeah, sure, whatever, I don’t mind. I didn’t really have a movie in mind anyways, so I was going to ask you to pick either way.”

   “Good,” hummed Hamilton. Then he spun towards Thomas, and physically shoved him towards the door, still maintaining a relatively deep blush. “Now shoo before I have to actually kick you out, I still need to change.”

   Thomas stumbled out of the bathroom as Hamilton quickly snapped the door shut again, and smiled. He had managed to make it out of there with all of his body parts together, and an almost-date with Hamilton.

   No, he thought to himself, this isn’t a date, it’s simply a movie we’re going to watch together. It’s nothing special, we’re probably going to be on opposite sides of the living room anyways.

   So thus, while Hamilton changed back into something he could walk into public with, Thomas dashed into his master bedroom and pulled out clothes fitting for a date made to impress Hamilton, even with the mantra of it’s not a date, get over yourself repeating in his head.

Chapter Text

Alexander sat in the living room waiting for Jefferson. He’d apparently went to his bedroom, probably to get changed, and Hamilton was glad; as he was still debating on if the new Wonder Woman would be better than the new Guardians of the Galaxy. He sat on the couch across from the tv while he contemplated this very difficult choice. That’s when he got a call from the hospital, and things started to go downhill quickly.

   “Hello? This is Alexander Hamilton speaking, how may I help you?”

   “Yes, hello, Mr. Hamilton, this is Margaret Sanger, I’m calling from the hospital you just came out of. I have a patient who would like to have a couple last words with you before she passes on. She’s in critical condition, but she’s just lucid enough to put together coherent thoughts and words. Will you take her call?”

   Alexander frowned, then asked in a very serious tone, “What’s her name?”

   “Maria Reynolds, sir. She’s said she helped you come back home? I ask again, will you take her-”

   “Yes, yes of course I’ll take her call!” cried Alexander, clutching the phone and pressing it to his cheek as though it was his lifeline. “Put her on, put her on, I’ll take her!”

   “Right, of course,” replied the nurse, then rustling came from the other line. The sounds of line changing came from the other end, then a male voice said, “Hello, this is Dr. William Hammond, I’m speaking to Mr. Hamilton, correct?”

   “Yes, that’s me,” said Alexander, his face pale “is Maria there?”

   “She is, give me a second,” the doctor replied, his voice solemn. There were a couple seconds of rustling again, then the doctor whispered to another person in the background, “This is Alexander Hamilton, you wanted to say a couple of things to him before we pull the plug?”

   Someone whispered something back, and Alexander’s breath caught in his throat. Pull the plug? She couldn’t have been in that bad a condition when he left her to the care of Martha Washington, could she have been?

   A very, very familiar voice broke into Alexander’s thoughts. “A-Alexomas?”

   A soft, sorrowful smile crept onto Alexander’s face as his eyes filled with tears. “H-hey, Maria. It’s just Alexander, now, it’s just me. We split a while ago, so now you can use our separate names.”

   Maria gave her attempt at a chuckle, but ended up coughing instead. The phone sounded like it was being set down, then there was the muffled sound of what Alexander could only assume was the doctor putting a breathing mask over Maria’s face. Alexander pulled the phone from his face and covered his mouth with his hand.

   Maria was going to die.

   That only just sunk in. His escape partner, who was innocent in all that had happened to her, was going to die. It was times like these that Alexander thought the world was completely unfair. He suddenly hoped James Reynolds suffered in jail for the rest of his life, before going to Hell.

   Jefferson walked into the room while Alexander half listened to Maria taking in the forced-in air, evening out her breathing. He gave Alexander an odd look when he saw the other man so distraught on the floor, them sat down in front of him, a couple of feet back.

   Alexander glanced slightly at what Jefferson was wearing (a magenta suit with a suitable tie, fashionable undershirt and matching pants) while said man mouthed, “What’s wrong? Who’s on the phone?”

   Alexander could only shake his head, then snapped the phone back to his ear when Maria started to say things again. “A-Alexander, you still there? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to scare you.”

   “M-Maria, i-it’s okay, you’ll be okay,” Alexander squeaked out. Jefferson’s eyes widened, then he nodded, inching slightly closer to put a hand on his knee. Alexander stared at Jefferson’s hand.

   A soft chuckling, not ending in a coughing fit this time, came from Maria, and she said softly, “I’m sorry, Alexander, I j-just… too many holes in my stomach, it seems. They couldn’t keep all my blood in. It’s a miracle I’ve survived this long, but they’ve said I’ll be bed-ridden for the rest of my life, on life support, and that’s not what I want. So, I’m going to leave this mortal realm once and for all, and hope for your continued safety and happiness. Thank you so much. You’ve done so much, I couldn’t possibly express how grateful I am to you, both of you.”

   Jefferson’s other hand came up to the phone in Alexander’s shaking hand, then pulled it down and put it on speaker. He was a lot calmer and collected that Alexander was, and Alexander congratulated him for that. Usually it took a lot more to break Alexander down.

   “Hello, Maria, this is Thomas Jefferson,” introduced Jefferson. He took his hand from Alexander’s knee and took the hand that covered Alexander’s mouth still into a clasp. It was nice, this level of comfort between the two of them.

   Alexander hated how much Jefferson had seen him cry within the last 24 hours, and he commanded himself to get his act back together, or else Jefferson would start treating him like a child. That was the last thing he wanted the other man to do. Already, they were breaking into each other’s lives, Alexander would at least like it if they could take the speed of their relationship down slightly. He still wasn’t completely sure if he truly hated the other man. There were also other emotions that he was getting, assumedly from Jefferson, that made Alexander even more confused.

   So thus, he slipped his hand from Jefferson’s grip, and put it on Jefferson’s phone hand. They both, then, were holding the phone, and Jefferson looked up at Alexander in surprise. Alexander set his face into a neutral expression, then said, “Maria, Thomas Jefferson is the other half of Alexomas, he put the ‘omas’ at the end of ‘Alex’, you know?”

   There was a soft snort from the phone, which grabbed Jefferson’s attention again, and Maria said, “Yeah, I know. You both are handsome men, you know that? I wish I could have seen you two separate, I bet you’re absolutely wonderful. I just fell on the wrong end of fate.”

   Jefferson gasped slightly, then said, “So wait, Reynolds was your soul-mate? I didn’t think any man that horrible could possibly be a soul-mate to anyone, especially not a nice girl like you, Maria.”

   There came some wheezing and coughing, and a doctor’s voice murmuring ‘five more minutes, okay, Ms. Reynolds?’, and Maria’s voice came back onto the phone line. “Yeah, he was my soul-mate. It’s hard to divorce your soul-mate, but it’s done, now, and I’m going to leave this planet a free woman.”

   Alexander smiled a small, sad smile, then said, “I understand that. Hey, Maria, let me share with you something special before you go, is that alright with you? I think you’ll relate to it, and I hold it dear.”

   Maria made a small noise of acknowledgement as Jefferson sat up straighter, a question in his eyes. Alexander chuckled softly, then said, “Yes, Jefferson, you can stay for this, too. Now, my mum, whose name was Rachel Faucette, was a strong woman, she moved around the islands of the Caribbean, which is where I’m from, a lot. She married a man, who wasn’t her soul-mate, a mister Johann Michael Lavien, and they moved to a snug little home, or at least snug for a plantation. My mum then had my half-brother, Peter, who she left, because she realised that she didn’t want to stay with that man. Many people called my mother a whore because she left even though they were still married, but I think that my mum did the better thing, because Lavien was a horrible man, an ogre. Then she met my father, James Hamilton, who was her soul-mate. They had me and my older brother, James Hamilton Jr., and they were sort of fine, for a little bit. Then I turned ten, my brother twelve, and my father left. My best guess is because he couldn’t support us any more, but mum was not so forgiving. We lived on without him, and soon got on very well, or at least as well as you can when every morning you wake up hoping you can earn enough to eat at some point during the day with the rest of your family. Then mum started getting very sick, and I caught whatever it was she brought. We… I wasn’t conscious or lucid enough to really understand anything outside of my own crushing pain, but my brother informed me, after I got better that… that mum had passed on. I managed to lose both parents so quickly, but I- I mean, me and my brother- managed to move on, somehow, and we made it to the small estate of my cousin, Peter Lytton. He, um, shot his brains out with a shotgun after the short while that me and my brother had stayed in his home. I wrote my way up, I’m not sure what happened to my brother, but James was a tough kid, I’m sure he’s out there somewhere. So yeah, now I’m here.”

   There was silence in the living room, then Jefferson closed the gap between them and pulled Alexander into a tight embrace. Alexander dropped the phone with a small ‘oh!’ escaping his lips, as Maria wheezed, “I’m sorry you went through so much at such a young age, Alex, but I can relate. Anyways, I’ve got to go, I'll see you one the other side."

   With a small click, Jefferson and Alexander were left in silence, the only sound their breathing. After a second, Alexander leaned into the hug, though commanding his entire being not to shed any form of water again. Jefferson tightened his grip, and Alexander felt the need to say something, to break the incredible sadness that had overtaken them. So, he did.

   “Maria’s gone.”

   “Yeah.”

   Jefferson’s whole body moved with his nod, and Alexander smiled slightly. Jefferson was being a teddy bear, but Alexander wasn’t getting anything except stiff abs, and he now knew for a fact that it was extremely uncomfortable to try and get comfortable on what was essentially the body’s version of a plank of wood. So, Alexander pulled away, and Jefferson leaned back, straightening his suit.

   “Nice suit,” commented Alexander, trying his best to lighten the very dark mood. Jefferson chuckled a little bit, then stood up and walked over to a cabinet beside the tv. He opened the door to it, then looked around in it.

   “Have you made a choice as to which movie you wanted to watch?” asked Jefferson, his tone almost kind and sweet as he tried to make Alexander at least a little happy. “You said you wanted to chose, right?”

   “Yeah, um…” Alexander thought for a couple seconds, his mind still turning over what had just happened, “maybe Guardians of the Galaxy, uh… original. I need some of that annoying Marvel humour right now, would that be fine?”

   “Alright,” said Jefferson, reaching up to the top shelf and pulling down a cd case, “I’ve got pretty much anything, except the super new releases, you know. Some pretty cool stuff. Here we are.”

   He popped the movie into the cd player that was hooked up to the tv, then flipped it on, the movie starting almost instantly. Alexander took in a deep breath as Jefferson plopped himself beside him. Should he still call Jefferson, Jefferson, or should he call him Thomas now? Alexander had no idea. This relationship was still so new and strange to him, there was still so much to get over.

   Alexander froze as Jeffer- Thomas, it’s Thomas, now- as Thomas put his arm around Alexander’s shoulder. There was a couple of seconds were Thomas just left his arm awkwardly on the smaller man’s shoulder, then Alexander moved in slightly. There was no point in letting Thomas get a, um, cramp in his arm, thought Alexander with a sigh.

   The feeling in the air was unmistakeably domestic, and by the end of the movie, Alexander had curled up into Thomas’s side, the latter wrapping his arm around his middle to hold him in place. The end credits were playing, but Alexander didn’t want to move from his position. He’d watched most of the movie through Thomas’s eyes, his own feeling too heavy. He half wondered if it was because he’d worked himself too hard, but dismissed that, remembering the entire time he’d been doing everything except work while being joined at the hip with Thomas.

   Thomas shifted a bit, and Alexander groaned, sitting up and out of Thomas’s hold with a loud yawn and long stretch. He stretched his arms to the ceiling, trying to pop his shoulders back into place from having been smooshed into someone’s side, and was taken by the fact that the ceiling overhead was so far out of his reach. He thought for a second, then asked Thomas, “Do you ever feel like you’re living in a giant’s castle?”

   Thomas looked down at Alexander in amused shock, then laughed. Alexander huffed, flushing a touch, then got up off the couch, giving Thomas a look and crossing his arms petulantly. Thomas just shook his head while he laughed, then said, “No, I’ve never thought about the rooms being that big! I think you’re just short.”

   Alexander snorted, then replied, “No, you’re just a tall tree. I can’t lose you in a crowd because you’re taller than 96% of the population of America. That should be your middle name, something like Thomas Tree Jefferson, or Thomas Redwood Jefferson, because you’re just that tall. You freakin’ tree.”

   Thomas howled at that, as his breathing became wheezes, and he doubled over holding his stomach, practically falling off the couch. He looked up at Alexander as the other frowned down at him, and his legs which were the only thing keeping him on the couch, gave out on him. Alexander watched him fall, a small smirk forming on his lips from Thomas’s incessant laughing, and asked, “Are you okay, Thomas?”

   Thomas looked up, then said, “I’m just… just laughing… c-cause…” Thomas took a breath, then tried again, “you started with a good basis, with statistics, then in the end, you fell flat with calling me a ‘freaking tree’! You were on a roll, and you crushed it with that line!”

   Alexander grimaced, then scowled at Thomas. “You know, for a man who acts all high and mighty, you are able to crush a moment so quickly with your huge giant feet. No wonder the ceiling doesn’t look high to you, you’re halfway up to it. Anyways, lovely movie, not-so lovely person in front of me, I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Jefferson.”

   Thomas rolled his eyes, then said, “Oh, please, Alexander, you’re being a child. Come on, now, at least stay a little while longer for some wine or something. I wouldn’t want to waste perfectly good alcohol on just myself.”

   Alexander sighed, then shook his head with a smile. “No, honestly, I should probably get to sleep, it’s around the time that John would be locking away my computer because I supposedly can’t get to bed on time on my own. Nice clothes, by the way, Thomas, they really do suit you. Thank God you left out your jacket, this time, though!”

   With a smirk, Alexander turned on his heal and left Thomas alone. Once he was halfway to only-Thomas-knew-where, Alexander stopped, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes. Looking through Thomas’s eyes, Alexander could see that the other man was still in the living room, sitting on the couch. He was flattening his shirt, and Alexander let out an breathy chuckle as he opened his eyes again. He then kicked off the wall and attempted to find a bedroom in the massive maze of halls.

   Tomorrow was a new day. Everything would be fine.

The next day, Thomas found Alexander on his back, laying on the ground, staring up at the ceiling in the kitchen. He’d dragged a mat over from the hall door, and placed in in the center of the kitchen, apparently deciding lying on tile on only one’s back hurt.

   Thomas found that it was almost sad, watching Alexander laying on the floor. His mouth was shut and his eyes were spaced out, though from what Thomas could tell, he wasn’t seeing through Thomas’s eyes. His hands were under his head, and his hair was splayed. The lights were still off, and the window just above the sink poured light onto Alexander’s head. The room was slightly cold, and there wasn’t a sound to be heard, except both his and Thomas’s breathing.

   As he walked into the kitchen proper, Thomas watched Alexander from the corner of his eye. The other man moved a bit, shimmied to the left slightly, then went back to being the human equivalent of stone. Thomas got out some caffeinated tea, turned on the kettle, then did something he never though he’d do in his entire life.

   He walked over to Alexander, crouched down, then belly flopped onto the other man. Alexander shrieked, then started pushing Thomas off, huffing and puffing while simultaneously trying to screech out a retort. Thomas, however, knew his weigh, and used that to his advantage, not letting Alexander push him off for anything. At one point, the kettle started to whistle, indicating the water was ready, and Alexander shrieked, “You’re going to burn the house down, turn the kettle off and get the heck off of me!”

   “Let it burn!” laughed Thomas through his hair, which had squished onto his face. “I’ve got money, I can repair any damage. The point to this is to prove to you that I am far superior than you in strength, and thus am far superior than you in everything, even work. Make sense?”

   “I will call Washington, demand that he fire you, call the cops, get you arrested, file a law suit, put in a bid to sue you, get a restraining order on you, put you in- OOF!” wheezed Alexander, as Thomas put his whole weight on Alexander’s stomach. “Off! Off, off, off!”

   Thomas laughed, then finally slid off of Alexander, as the other man scrambled out from under Thomas, slamming into one of the pantries with his back. He cried out in shock, then used the pantry as leverage up, standing his full height of three inches shorter than Thomas. Thomas stood up, as well, then said, “Well, that was fun, don’t you think?”

   Alexander fumed, his face turning red, and he stuck a finger into Thomas’s face. He cried, “You know what’s wrong with you? You can’t tell when someone just needs a break from you, you’re convinced the world revolves solely around you, and you have zero morals! I was thinking about things, I was trying to get my thoughts in order and file away things I didn’t need to be thinking of, but you’ve gone and messed that up, you freaking annoying, tall, whiney, handsome twig!”

   Thomas smiled, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. “Did you just complement me while trying your darnedest to insult me? My, my, Alexander, I never thought I’d live to see the day when you actually came to-”

   “Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” said Alexander threateningly, as he stood on his tippy toes to be eye level with Thomas. He knitted his eyebrows together, and tried his best to look threatening. Thomas just chuckled.

   “If you want me to shut up, make me,” replied Thomas smoothly, relishing every moment with the Alexander that was in front of him. He didn’t like the mood Alexander brought when he was sad, or scared, or upset. He liked it when Alexander was passionate about something, when he was fired up and ready to blow up on the closest passerby.

   Alexander gasped, then put some distance between himself and Thomas. “Are you trying to insinuate what I think you’re trying to insinuate? Because if so, I am leaving, and going straight back to work. I will call Washington and tell him what you’re telling me, don’t you push me, Thomas Jefferson.”

   Thomas rolled his eyes, then put his hands on his hips, letting a smirk make its way onto his lips. “No one likes snitches, Alexander. And besides, you and me are trapped here for a month, why not make the most of it, huh?”

   “Not a month,” mumbled Alexander as he looked away. He puffed out his cheeks, then stared at the window. “Not anymore, at least. More like a couple of weeks, now. Most of the month is gone.”

   Thomas let out a chuckle, then said, “Then let’s savour the time we have together, without fighting. We’ll get enough chances to fight like cats and dogs once we’re back at work, and we can always just be fighting partners, if you want,” though please don’t be like that, “so for now, let’s enjoy things. Besides, I know you’re sad about Maria Reynolds, now, but you’ve got to know that she’s gone now, and she’s not coming back. Neither is her horrible ex-husband, so we can move on, okay?”

   Alexander sighed, then looked up at Thomas. He then looked down and bounced on the balls of his feet, before he seemingly came to a decision and walked forward, faceplanting into Thomas’s chest. Thomas wrapped him up in his arms, and Alexander sighed again, responding by giving Thomas a hug.

   Thomas smiled, then felt Alexander move and looked down. The smaller man looked up at Thomas, then closed his eyes and opened his mouth. “Too many people I know and care about have died or left. My mum died, my father left, I can only assume he’s dead. My brother’s off somewhere, I bet he’s dead. My cousin committed bloody suicide in the kitchen before we were taken out of that home. My dog, Philip, was shot by a hunter, thinking him to be a hunting animal. My entire town, back on Nevis was wiped out by a hurricane, I think I was one of the few survivors, but I don’t know. I just don’t want anyone else to die, you know?”

   Thomas nodded wisely, then smiled down at Alexander. He’d shared Alexander’s memories, even though they were but a smudge in his mind’s eye now. He knew the trauma Alexander had been through, the many things that were taken from him at a young age. “Yeah, I know. I’ll try and make sure no one else does, it’s okay.”

   “I hope so,” mumbled Alexander as he put his face back into Thomas’s chest.

   Thomas hummed a bit, then said, “Hey, why don’t we go to my library? We’re kind of stuck here for a while, and I know that I don’t have all the books you’re wanting to read, but we could just kind of take a load off while we sit and read. That okay with you?”

   Alexander looked up at Thomas, his eyes holding many emotions in them, then backed out of the hug, taking a few steps away from Thomas. “Y-yeah, sure… I’ve, um… I’ve got a question for you, Thomas.”

   “Yeah?” asked Thomas as he finally turned away from Alexander and turned off the kettle, setting it aside, not really wanting to be blasted with superheated water evaporation quite yet. “What’s on your mind, Alexander?”

   “Um… never mind. I’ll meet you in the library.”

   Alexander left the kitchen, and Thomas had the idea that Alexander would always be the one leaving the room before Thomas. It just seemed to be the way things would go, though it wasn’t that bad of a fate for things to go.

   Besides, if anything broke behind Alexander, Thomas would be able to go through afterwards and clean it up, because goodness knew Alexander wouldn’t.