Work Text:
Alexander Hamilton closes his eyes and pulls the trigger. Two deafening reports occur in quick succession, there’s a searing pain in his side, and the world behind his eyelids blooms white.
Alexander Hamilton’s fingers crawl down to his abdomen and come away dripping with grit as well as wetness. He opens his eyes.
Alexander is lying on a beach, the widest most beautiful beach he’s ever seen. Overhanging cliffs are glowing in the morning sun, and when Alexander sits up, his wig slides off and the sea breeze ruffles his auburn hair affectionately. Alexander is not injured after all, and his clothes are only damaged in such ways as make for a Pleasingly Disheveled Look. He is gorgeous and safe on a beach with all the beauty of a strong central government.
But Alexander himself has observed that men often oppose a thing merely because they have had no agency in planning it, or because it may have been planned by those whom they dislike. Alexander wanders the beach until he tracks down a local fisherman to interrogate and determine how best to return to his duel.
“What country, friend, is this?” Alexander asks, and he finds in due course that Illyria is governed by one James Madison, a noble duke who seeks the love of a woman known for her long white coats. He also finds that the sailor saw an ill-favoured gentleman far out at sea, wrecked and surely drown’d, and that national debt is the hot-button issue for the common people.
“I’ll serve this Duke," Alexander decides. "I’ll present me as a fiscal secretary to him.”
The play continues. Alexander Hamilton thinks, madly, that the universe may love him after all.