Chapter Text
Before the soft swell of music could rise again and pull them into the next chapter of the story, the now-familiar voice echoed calmly through the chamber.
“Before questions are asked,” the voice began, even and composed, “this song is a reprise of a previous number. There are, however, differences.”
A pause followed, the room, still holding the weight of Angelica’s heartfelt confession, murmured with quiet acknowledgment. Heads nodded, the tension easing just slightly.
“Thank you,” Eliza spoke softly, her voice one of the few that rose clearly in the gentle hush, her hand still clutching Alexander’s. Others echoed her sentiment quiet thanks, murmured acknowledgments of appreciation to the strange but strangely considerate presence that had accompanied them throughout this surreal experience.
From one corner, Lafayette gave a small, exaggerated bow to the ceiling. “Merci, mysterious voice,” he said with a touch of humor, trying to break the solemn air just enough to ease the knot in everyone’s chest. A few soft chuckles followed not quite laughter, but something.
Alexander exhaled slowly, his eyes on the screen ahead though his mind still lingered in the moment past. He appreciated the warning, the kindness in offering a moment’s clarity before emotions could tangle again.
John leaned gently into his side, a reassuring presence.
Even General Washington gave a quiet nod of gratitude, his expression solemn but appreciative.
All eyes turned toward the screen once more, the moment reset. The silence before the next storm had been granted — and with it, a brief breath of stillness.
[LAURENS]
I may not live to see our glory!
John’s gaze flickered toward Alexander the moment he felt the subtle tension ripple through him a barely perceptible tightening of his fingers, the way his posture shifted just slightly, as if bracing for a blow that hadn’t yet come. The screen ahead stirred memories, words from earlier in the show echoing too loudly in Alexander’s mind. Ones laced with loss.
Without a word, John gently reached for Alexander’s interlacing their fingers with a quiet, deliberate care. His grip was firm, grounding. Alexander’s hand was cold the chill of remembered fear and pain clinging to his skin despite the warmth of the room around them.
Leaning in just slightly so no one else could hear, John whispered in a voice barely louder than a breath, “I’m here, Alex. I’m alive and sat right beside you.”
His words were soft, but their weight was immeasurable.
Alexander blinked, his eyes glassy with unspoken emotion. For a heartbeat, he couldn’t speak the lump in his throat catching any sound before it could form. But he turned toward John slightly, just enough for their foreheads to briefly touch, a small nod all he could manage as a wave of emotion surged through him.
[MULLIGAN/LAFAYETTE]
I may not live to see our glory!
[LAURENS]
But I’ve seen wonders great and small
“Oh, do explain, mon ami! ” Lafayette grinned, the mischief dancing in his eyes as he leaned slightly forward in his seat, his tone laced with anticipation.
The four men of the Revolutionary set, Lafayette, Mulligan, Laurens, and Hamilton, shared a single glance. It was all it took. Whatever memory had just flashed across the screen had ignited something between them, a shared recollection held tight in the bonds of brotherhood. Their expressions twitched with suppressed laughter until the dam broke, and they all burst out chuckling in near-perfect harmony.
Alexander tried to hide a smirk behind his hand, John nudging him with a knowing look while Hercules slapped a palm against his knee, laughing loudly. Lafayette let out a melodic chuckle, shaking his head in amusement, clearly enjoying the ripple of mischief between them.
The rest of the room, however, was left entirely in the dark.
“What on earth is so funny?” Peggy whispered toward Angelica, who could only shrug in bemused confusion.
On the other side of the room, seated with an air of composed grace, Martha Washington tilted her head curiously. Her soft curls were pinned perfectly in place, and a light smile played on her lips as she leaned toward her husband, a twinkle of amusement in her gaze. “I thought you had knowledge of all the workings in camp,” she teased, her voice sweet and silken, though clearly poking gentle fun.
George Washington let out a low sigh through his nose, his weathered features shifting with a faint, wry smile. His posture remained stately, hands folded on his lap, yet his eyes stayed fixed on the screen, watching the shadows of past events unfold.
“Apparently not,” he murmured, voice quiet and contemplative. “Although… I believe this may have occurred on Alexander’s wedding night. Likely after I had already retired for the evening.”
Martha raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “So the night you passed along a young man, one that you feel rather fatherly towards, into the care of matrimony, caused just enough chaos to still be the talk of the camp, even now?”
“Mm,” Washington hummed, not denying it. A rare flicker of something between fondness and resignation ghosted across his face, the kind only a man long familiar with Alexander’s ways could do.
The room remained abuzz with hushed giggles and questions, most of the group still wondering what the Revolutionary men had found so amusing. But for the four comrades, it was a memory best kept close, the kind of recollection wrapped in nostalgia, mischief, and the bittersweet echo of simpler days.
[MULLIGAN/LAFAYETTE]
I’ve seen wonders great and small
[LAURENS]
‘Cause if the tomcat can get married
Alexander rolled his eyes dramatically, though there was no true irritation behind the gesture. A playful glare was thrown upward toward John, who chuckled softly from where he sat on the couch. Alexander was comfortably curled against his chest, John’s arm resting securely around his waist. On the other side, Eliza was similarly nestled against Alexander, her head resting gently on his shoulder, their closeness painting a picture of quiet intimacy and safety.
“I am not a tomcat!” Alexander huffed, his voice lifting in a pitch that bordered on a whine, his face flushed with playful indignation.
Before he could continue protesting, a deep and familiar voice cut through the moment with a surprising calm authority.
“Yes, you are, son.”
Alexander’s eyes widened slightly in alarm as he turned to find General Washington watching him with a rare but unmistakable twinkle in his eye. The older man’s usual solemn demeanor was tempered by the dry amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth, his hands steepled lightly as he leaned forward.
Martha, seated gracefully beside her husband, smiled knowingly. She added her voice to the teasing chorus, “I didn’t give the cat your name for no reason, Alexander.”
The comment hit him like a thunderbolt of remembered embarrassment. His mouth opened and closed wordlessly before he groaned and let his head fall back against John’s shoulder, face now blooming with deep crimson.
“That wasn’t meant to come back and haunt me,” he muttered under his breath, clearly referencing the earlier conversation he’d had with the General about the cat named "Hamilton."
John laughed aloud, clearly enjoying the sight of his usually quick-witted partner momentarily outmaneuvered. Eliza giggled as well, brushing her fingers affectionately along Alexander’s arm, her eyes sparkling.
“I think it suits you,” she teased gently, voice warm with affection. “Charming, curious, always slipping through windows you probably shouldn’t.”
“Unbelievable,” Alexander grumbled, though the smile tugging at his lips betrayed just how little he meant it. His gaze flicked toward Washington and Martha, both of whom now wore matching expressions of warm amusement and genuine affection.
[MULLIGAN/LAFAYETTE]
If Alexander can get married—
[LAURENS]
There’s hope for our ass, after all!
[LAFAYETTE]
Raise a glass to freedom
[LAURENS/MULLIGAN]
Hey!
Something you will never see again!
Eliza pulled away from Alexander slightly, sitting up a little straighter. Her eyes narrowed—not with anger, but with playful indignation. Reaching out, she gave John a deliberate, pointed swat on the arm.
“John Laurens,” she said, her tone syrupy sweet with just enough sharpness beneath, “what exactly did you mean by that little comment?”
John blinked, glancing at her as though hoping he might have misheard. “What comment?”
“That now Alexander is married, he’ll never see freedom again,” Angelica supplied, folding her arms as her expression shifted into one of mock offense. Her raised brow and narrowed eyes sparkled with amusement, but also a quiet promise that she was not above dragging him further if he dodged the question.
“Oh yes,” Peggy added, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “Are you saying that love and freedom are mutually exclusive , Mr. Laurens? Because I think I speak for the three of us when I say that’s an interesting theory.”
John lifted his hands quickly in protest, an unmistakable blush beginning to spread across his cheeks. “It was a joke! Just a joke, we used to say it back in camp, just a bit of harmless teasing!”
“Harmless,” Eliza repeated, eyes wide and faux-innocent, “so, freedom ends with a ring, does it?”
“Freedom ends with wives, apparently,” Angelica added dryly.
“Or maybe the real problem is we terrifying women who dare to ask questions,” Peggy said, voice dripping in mock offense as she tapped her chin thoughtfully.
John looked increasingly desperate, his gaze flicking to Alexander as if hoping for backup. “Alex-”
But Alexander just leaned back with a lazy smirk. “I told you, you were on your own with that one.”
“I didn’t mean it like that!” John pleaded, laughing nervously. “Truly,I meant it like a camp thing. Just soldier talk. Not serious. Not,not actually about you lovely ladies, I swear-”
“Laurens.”
The single word, spoken in the low, commanding voice of General Washington, silenced the room. The elder man, seated comfortably beside Martha, gave John a knowing look beneath furrowed brows. “It’s better to accept the defeat now. You won’t win this battle.”
Martha gave a delicate little nod beside him. “Smart man,” she said sweetly. Then her gaze shifted across the room landing on the younger men with a pointed, piercing sharpness that cut through the teasing atmosphere like a blade. “Some men have to learn the hard way. I recommend none of you try.”
The room chuckled nervously, and even Hercules subtly shifted a little straighter in his seat glad to not be the focus of the ladies attention when it was both he and Laurens speaking on screen.
John groaned, slumping slightly in defeat, his blush deepening. “I surrender. Fully. No terms. Just mercy.”
“You’re lucky we’re gracious,” Eliza said smoothly.
“Gracious and terrifying,” Alexander whispered under his breath with a grin.
John slanted him a glare, though there was no heat in it. “You’re not helping.”
Alexander gave him an unapologetic shrug. “Welcome to married life, mon chou.”
“God help me,” John mumbled, causing another round of laughter to ripple through the room.
[MULLIGAN]
No matter what she tells you
[LAFAYETTE]
Let’s have another round tonight!
“Should you boys really be having another drink?” Martha’s voice cut through the lighthearted laughter with a tone of maternal firmness that made several of the men flinch as if caught red-handed. Her expression was calm, but her eyes—sharp as ever—surveyed them all like a schoolmistress spotting mischief in her classroom.
Her folded arms and the lift of one perfectly arched brow gave her an air of commanding authority, the kind that made even seasoned soldiers sit up straighter.
“You all sound like you’ve already had more than a few,” Angelica added, her voice dry with bemusement as she glanced around the room. Her eyes landed first on Laurens, still red-faced from the last round of teasing, then on Hercules who was trying unsuccessfully to stifle a hiccup, and finally on Alexander, who, rather than looking sheepish, wore an infuriatingly smug grin.
Alexander raised his hands in mock surrender, the smirk playing on his lips growing into a crooked, boyish smile. “It was my wedding night,” he said, voice full of mischief, “there was never a time that there were too many drinks.”
“You said that like it’s a noble cause,” Eliza murmured, nudging him gently with her elbow, though her fond smile betrayed her amusement.
“Besides,” Alexander continued, glancing toward the other men for support, “I think everyone was just trying to toast the happy couple as much as possible. It would have been rude not to drink.”
“A sacrifice ,” Hercules added dramatically, clutching an imaginary glass to his chest. “Truly, we were drinking for you , Alexander.”
John snorted. “You drank enough for three weddings .”
“And then some,” Burr chimed in, dry as ever, his lips twitching at the corners.
Martha’s gaze swept over them all once again. “I swear, it’s like watching boys in uniform playing at adulthood,” she muttered under her breath, though her eyes sparkled with faint affection.
General Washington coughed softly into his hand, fighting a smile of his own. “You must forgive them, dear,” he said, glancing at his wife with an almost sheepish glance. “They are still boys in some ways. War makes them older, but not always wiser.”
“You’re not exempt from that comment,” Martha said, shooting him a glance.
Angelica leaned toward her sisters, whispering with a smirk, “It’s like a room full of sons. Loud, proud, and utterly without shame.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Peggy whispered back, grinning, “it’s rather endearing.”
Eliza just laughed quietly, resting her chin on Alexander’s shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her waist. “As long as they don’t try for another drink,” she said, “I think we’ll survive it.”
Alexander opened his mouth like he might have been about to suggest just that—but the look from Martha Washington shut him down instantly.
He sat back, arms lifted again in surrender. “Noted. No more drinks. At least not without your blessing, ma’am.”
Martha gave a regal nod. “See that you remember it.”
[LAURENS]
Raise a glass to the four of us!
[LAFAYETTE/HAMILTON]
Ho!
[MULLIGAN]
To the newly not poor of us!
Alexander let out a small, almost silent sigh—quiet enough that most wouldn’t hear it, but not Eliza.
She felt it more than she heard it. A subtle shift in the rhythm of his breathing, the way his shoulders curved inward ever so slightly. It was the kind of sigh born not from physical exhaustion, but from something heavier—something older and far more familiar.
Her gaze flicked toward him, soft and steady. Though he kept his eyes on the screen, she could tell—he wasn’t really seeing it. His mind had wandered, pulled back into a memory.
And she knew .
He was remembering that night. Their wedding night. Not just the joy, the warmth, the celebration… but the quiet, fragile truths that lay underneath. She shifted slightly, the movement subtle, curling herself more securely into his side, her hand gently finding his where it rested, clenched too tightly on his thigh.
“You’re not a burden, Alex,” she whispered softly, her voice low enough to keep the moment entirely between them. “You never have been.”
His breath caught, his eyes darting toward hers in surprise. He hadn’t said a word. Not out loud. But somehow, she knew .
Eliza reached up and brushed a few stray strands of hair behind his ear, her fingers lingering at his cheek. “You don’t have to feel guilty for being relieved,” she murmured, her eyes shining with quiet intensity. “You’ve fought so long just to survive. Let yourself rest now. Let yourself have this.”
Alexander blinked rapidly, and his lower lip trembled for the briefest moment. The weight of those words, the permission in them, hit deeper than any praise or admiration ever could. He turned his hand and gripped hers tightly.
On his other side, John had noticed the exchange. He leaned in slightly, his hand coming to rest gently on Alexander’s back in a soothing, grounding touch. His voice, just as soft, joined Eliza’s.
“You don’t owe anyone an apology for surviving, Alex,” John said quietly. “Not me. Not Eliza. Not even yourself.”
Alexander let out a quiet, shuddering breath, eyes closing for a heartbeat. And when he opened them again, there was something lighter in them, just a touch.
He nodded, the motion small but resolute. And without a word more, both Eliza and John leaned in, each placing a kiss,one to his temple, the other to his shoulder.
Between the noise and movement of the room around them, this moment was theirs alone.
[LAURENS/LAFAYETTE/HAMILTON]
Woo!
[LAFAYETTE]
We’ll tell the story of tonight
[LAURENS]
Let’s have another round—
[HAMILTON]
Well, if it isn’t Aaron Burr
[BURR]
Sir!
Alexander and Burr met each other’s gaze across the room, both turning at the exact same moment as if pulled by some unspoken signal. Their eyes locked, a familiar spark igniting between them—neither hostile nor entirely friendly, but something uniquely theirs. It was the tension of shared ambition, unspoken challenges, and mutual recognition.
A flicker of a smirk twitched at the corners of Alexander’s lips, his posture straightening slightly as though preparing for a duel of words rather than weapons. Burr raised a brow in response, his expression calm and unreadable, but his eyes glinting with amusement. There was a silent message passed between them, sharp and charged with history: Not yet, but soon.
Around them, several of the other soldiers,Laurens, Lafayette, even Mulligan chuckled knowingly. They’d seen this before. The subtle dance of competition and camaraderie between the two men had become almost routine, like a familiar tune that always hinted at the same notes.
“Five seconds,” Laurens whispered to Lafayette with a grin, “before they start trying to out-eloquence each other.”
“I give it three,” Lafayette replied with a soft laugh, taking a sip of his drink, eyes never leaving the pair.
Even General Washington, from where he sat beside Martha, seemed to glance their way with the air of someone both fond and mildly exasperated. He knew the spark between Hamilton and Burr could be a powerful force,for good or for chaos.
Still, in that moment, Alexander and Burr didn’t say a word. Just a steady, almost respectful nod exchanged between two men walking the same road but at very different paces.
[HAMILTON]
I didn’t think that you would make it
[BURR]
To be sure
[MULLIGAN/LAFAYETTE]
Burr!
[BURR]
I came to say congratulations
Eliza offered Burr a gentle smile from where she sat, her voice soft but sincere. “Thank you, Mr. Burr.”
Aaron looked at her and gave a small nod in return, his expression unreadable.
Inside, however, something twisted.
She was kind, warm—grateful. And he would be the one to bring her pain. The one who would make her a widow.
Burr turned his gaze back to the screen, swallowing the weight in his chest. There was no malice in her eyes. Only grace. And yet, he believed his path was already written—a path that ended with him taking away the man she loved.
A quiet sorrow settled over him. He didn’t know when or how, only that it would come if he decided to not change it.
[MULLIGAN]
Spit a verse, Burr!
[BURR]
I see the whole gang is here
[LAFAYETTE]
You are the worst, Burr!
Aaron tensed in his seat, the jestful remark from the clearly very, very drunk Frenchman echoing louder in his ears than it likely had in the room. Laughter still danced around them, light and harmless to most but to Burr, the words carried weight.
Across from him, Lafayette winced the moment the sharpness of his own voice caught up with him. The mood had been light, jovial, Burr’s quiet refusal to join in hadn’t warranted such a barbed comment, not really. He’d meant no harm.
“I am sorry, Aaron,” Lafayette said quickly, “I did not mean for that to come across as rude.”
Burr gave a short, polite nod, his jaw tight as he accepted the apology. To the casual observer, it might have seemed the end of it. But those who knew Burr well,those who watched closely,could see the tension hadn’t left him. His lips pressed into a thin line, his posture upright and stiff as if bracing against some unseen tide.
He wasn’t upset about the comment itself. Not truly. It was the laughter that followed, the easy camaraderie he couldn’t quite step into, the closeness that felt just out of reach.
[HAMILTON]
Ignore them.
The screen froze mid-motion, catching the moment Lafayette let out a dramatic, playful scoff,his grin wide and infectious. Mulligan barked a laugh while John leaned in to jab his elbow lightly into Alex’s side, making the smaller man jolt slightly.
“Wow, thanks Alex!” Mulligan exclaimed with exaggerated offense, his hand placed over his heart in mock hurt as he rolled his eyes dramatically.
Alexander’s expression was a mix of amusement and frustration, his face pinched with mock indignation, brows furrowing as he leaned forward in protest. “You know what I meant!” he exclaimed, voice half-laughing, half-whining, though the pink creeping up his cheeks suggested a hint of embarrassment.
The room chuckled, the energy light and teasing, the moment frozen in good-natured fun. Even Washington, who usually kept himself slightly removed from the younger men’s antics, let a quiet smile tug at the corner of his mouth. The warmth between them was palpable,brotherhood forged in battle, strengthened by laughter, even in the middle of a surreal and emotionally heavy night.
John’s fingers lingered briefly on Alexander’s arm, a silent reassurance in the touch. “You really do make it too easy sometimes,” he murmured quietly, his voice fond.
Alexander huffed, folding his arms but unable to suppress the smile tugging at his lips. “I’m surrounded by traitors,” he grumbled, earning another round of laughter from the gathered friends.
Congrats to you, Lieutenant Colonel
I wish I had your command instead of manning George’s journal
Alexander winced at the bluntness of his onscreen counterpart, his body curling inward as the words echoed a little too closely to the truth. Though dramatized, the sentiment wasn’t far from the actual conversation he and Burr had shared on his wedding night.
Almost unconsciously, he tucked himself closer between John and Eliza. John’s steady presence and Eliza’s gentle embrace forming a quiet shield against the scrutiny he now felt. The warmth of John’s arm draped protectively around his shoulder and the press of Eliza’s hand against his knee grounded him, but it didn’t stop the dread pooling low in his stomach as he felt that unmistakable sensation of being watched.
Lifting his gaze hesitantly, he found himself caught in the sharp, piercing stare of General Washington. The older man’s eyes were heavy with disappointment,not anger, but something deeper, quieter, and far more painful to endure.
“Is that what you truly think?” Washington asked, his voice calm but firm, laced with a fatherly sternness. One thick brow arched, waiting for the younger man to answer.
Alexander’s heart skipped a beat and he shook his head quickly, almost too quickly. “No, sir. I promise,” he said, the words tumbling out as his throat tightened. He straightened slightly, trying to appear more composed than he felt.
Washington’s eyes remained on him a moment longer, assessing, weighing the truth in his words. Finally, he let out a low hum, neither displeased nor entirely convinced, and slowly nodded.
“Good,” he said at last, his tone softening. “You are very important to this cause, Lieutenant. I hope you never forget that.”
The statement struck Alexander deeper than he expected. He swallowed thickly, nodding back, voice lost to emotion. Washington turned his attention back to the screen, but the moment lingered,heavy and strangely comforting.
[BURR]
No, you don’t
[HAMILTON]
Yes, I do
[BURR]
Now, be sensible
From what I hear, you’ve made yourself indispensable
Washington spoke up again, his voice calm but firm, the kind of voice that demanded attention without raising in volume. “You truly are, Alexander,” he said, his tone carrying the weight of sincerity and unwavering respect. “We could not continue fighting this war if it were not for your rather successful correspondences with Congress.”
The words seemed to echo in the room, heavy with unexpected praise. Alexander’s breath hitched quietly, and he lowered his gaze, refusing to meet Washington’s eyes. A flush rose up his neck, creeping across his cheeks and ears. The praise particularly from someone like Washington was almost too much to bear. The back of his neck burned, and he shifted uncomfortably, trying to suppress the small, sheepish smile tugging at his lips.
Lafayette stepped in, clearly unwilling to let the moment pass without reinforcing the truth. “It is true, mon ami,” he said warmly, a hand gesturing broadly as he spoke. “Yes, I, John, Tilghman, the other aides we all write to Congress and to various benefactors, requesting their aid, reporting on matters... but not one of us,” he said with a soft chuckle, “not one of us can replicate your success.”
Alexander’s face turned even redder, and he rubbed at the back of his neck, still not quite able to look up. Eliza smiled fondly from beside him, reaching out to place her hand over his. Her touch was reassuring,silent permission to accept the praise without shame.
John, sitting just on his other side, bumped their shoulders together lightly. “Don’t act so surprised, Alex. You’ve always had a way with words, and we’ve all benefited from it.”
Even Mulligan, leaning back in his seat with a grin, called out, “If it wasn’t for your letters, we’d be fighting this war barefoot and starving!”
Laughter rippled lightly around the room, but the admiration was genuine. Alexander looked up through his lashes, finally glancing toward Washington, whose expression had softened with quiet pride.
“You are more than just a soldier, Lieutenant,” the General said, his eyes steady. “You are a voice this revolution depends on.”
[LAURENS]
Well, well, I heard
You’ve got a special someone on the side, Burr
[HAMILTON]
Is that so?
The room echoed with laughter as Alexander perfectly mimicked the words of his on-screen counterpart, his timing so precise it earned amused glances and light teasing. Eliza smiled fondly, and John nudged him with a grin, but across the room, Aaron sat still, the amusement not touching him.
His mind raced.
They couldn’t know. Could they?
He looked around the room, heart thudding louder with each beat. Everyone was so at ease, focused on the screen, unaware— or were they?
His gaze drifted upward to the ceiling, where the voice had echoed again and again. It wasn’t guessing. It knew.
This is the future. They could know everything.
His mouth went dry. The weight of what was still to come settled on his chest like a stone. He didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He just sat there, back stiff, breath steadying as he prepared himself.
[LAURENS]
What are you tryin’ to hide, Burr?
[BURR]
I should go
“Yes, get out of there while you can,” Jefferson grumbled, arms crossed tightly over his chest as he glared half-heartedly at the screen. His tone was laced with bitterness, the words sharp even if said under his breath.
His jaw tensed as he thought of his own timeline, of the political entanglements, the heated debates, the endless back-and-forth with Hamilton . If he could go back, he might’ve taken a different path,maybe one that didn’t involve getting so deeply wrapped up in the whirlwind that was Alexander Hamilton.
Beside him, Madison glanced over, taking in his friend’s expression. “Come on now, Thomas,” James said, his voice calm, tempered with something that resembled quiet exasperation.
Jefferson shot him a pointed look in return. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t consider it too,” he muttered.
Madison didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he gave a small, knowing smile,the kind that acknowledged shared experience without agreement. Then, with a light sigh, he looked back at the screen, leaving Jefferson to his brooding thoughts.
[HAMILTON]
No, these guys should go
[LAFAYETTE]
What?
[LAURENS]
No!
[HAMILTON]
Leave us alone
“Hey! Really, Alexander! Sending us away as if we were nothing!” Hercules exclaimed, dramatically throwing his hands in the air, a mock glare directed at the man in question. His voice echoed in the quiet space, drawing attention and causing a few snickers from those who caught the lighthearted tone.
Alexander flinched at the words, his shoulders tightening instinctively as if bracing for a scolding or genuine anger. His fingers twitched slightly against his knees, his mind racing with old instincts. Had he done something wrong? Had he hurt them?
The silence that followed felt deafening in his ears, heart pounding in his chest as he looked up only to freeze when he caught the familiar spark of mischief in Hercules’ eyes.
A breath of relief escaped him in the form of a choked laugh, his tension melting just slightly. “You guys know I would never!” he said quickly, trying to match Hercules’ teasing tone.
The words came out light, but not without tremor. There was a quivering edge to his voice, a subtle shake that didn’t go unnoticed by those closest to him.
John, who had leaned slightly forward as if to intervene, relaxed again, offering Alexander a soft smile.
Lafayette chuckled, nudging Hercules with an elbow. “You scared him, mon ami.”
Hercules gave a sheepish grin, waving his hands. “What, me? I was being nice!”
“Your nice needs work,” John grinned, but there was warmth in his eyes as he clapped a hand on Alexander’s shoulder, grounding him.
Alexander nodded, a bit sheepishly, brushing the hair from his face as he let the playful atmosphere wash over him. He was still learning, learning what it meant to be teased, to be cared for, to be safe.
[MULLIGAN]
Man…
[HAMILTON]
It’s alright, Burr. I wish you’d brought this girl with you tonight, Burr
[BURR]
You’re very kind, but I’m afraid it’s unlawful, sir
Burr tensed, his entire frame going rigid in his seat as the air in the room seemed to shift. His eyes widened, locked on the screen with the kind of intensity that bordered on dread.
He hadn’t spoken, hadn’t even blinked as the scene unfolded before them but now, as the truth began to reveal itself on the screen, the one secret he’d buried deeper than any other, he felt as if the breath had been knocked from his lungs.
Around him, the atmosphere shifted with a quiet but palpable curiosity. The others, some seated near and others across the room, began to glance his way, their expressions filled with curiosity.
Burr's throat bobbed with a silent swallow. His jaw tightened, and for a brief second, it looked as though he might stand and leave. But he didn’t, couldn’t. All he could do was sit and watch as his private burden, the truth he had worked so hard to keep hidden, was laid bare before those he called allies… and rivals.
The weight of their unspoken reactions began to press in, but he didn’t meet any of their gazes. His eyes remained fixed on the screen, his face composed with a sharp, practiced control,only his clenched fists and too-still posture betraying the storm that brewed inside.
[HAMILTON]
What do you mean?
[BURR]
She’s married
[HAMILTON]
I see
[BURR]
She’s married to a British officer
Remarks of surprise echoed through the room like a ripple across still water. Gasps, muttered exclamations, and a few stunned silences passed from person to person as the revelation sank in.
All eyes turned to Aaron Burr.
He had gone pale, his face stiff and unreadable, but the sharp intake of breath gave away the tension wracking through him. His shoulders were rigid, posture too still—as though bracing for an impact he had long anticipated and still feared.
Panic flickered in his eyes as he looked around the room, every part of him on edge.
To his left, James Madison and Thomas Jefferson exchanged a glance. Being from further in the timeline than most others in the room, they already knew parts of Burr’s path. Even so, seeing it revealed here and now brought a different weight. Jefferson looked stunned, for once without a snide remark, while Madison’s features remained tight with unease.
Jefferson coughed, choking slightly on the whiskey he had been sipping. “Really, Burr?! I would never have thought that of you.”
“Thomas,” James muttered sharply, sending him a glare. “Not the time.”
Jefferson grumbled something under his breath, dabbing at the mess from his coughing fit as he continued to sip from his glass.
The rest of the room remained quiet, every gaze focused on Burr, some surprised, some searching, and others unreadable.
Across the way, the women exchanged looks, but none spoke. Whatever thoughts flickered behind their eyes, they kept them hidden, their expressions unreadable, their silence adding more weight than words could have.
[HAMILTON]
Oh shit…
[BURR]
Congrats again, Alexander. Smile more
Alexander looked down at his lap, where his fingers were gently entwined with Eliza’s in one hand and John’s in the other. The warmth of their touch was a grounding force, tethering him to the present despite the surreal experience they were all sharing. This strange, ethereal situation watching their lives most of which they had not experienced themselves unfold on a stage, being pulled from their timeline had offered something he never thought possible.
Here, in this strange pause between timelines, he had been given the space to simply exist with both of them. To love openly. To hold Eliza without hesitation, and to sit pressed against John without fear. No secrecy, no stolen glances. Just love, in its full, complicated, and unapologetic form.
His gaze shifted across the room, landing quietly on Burr. The man sat unnaturally still, pale, and visibly rattled. His secret had been unveiled without warning, laid bare for all to see, and though the room was filled with murmurs and confusion, Burr said nothing.
Alexander’s chest tightened.
Because even when they return, nothing would have changed for Burr. He wouldn’t have the love he craved, the one he kept buried behind veils of propriety and ambition. He would still stand alone.
I’ll see you on the other side of the war
[HAMILTON]
I will never understand you
If you love this woman, go get her! What are you waiting for?
Angelica’s voice cracked like a whip through the room, her words laced with sharp frustration, sorrow, and a deep, echoing fury that had clearly been simmering for far too long.
“The woman is married, Alexander,” she snapped, her posture rigid, her eyes blazing. “Even if she wanted to marry Aaron, she could not. And Aaron—” she turned her gaze toward Burr, who flinched slightly under the intensity of it “—he gets no say in the matter either. Unless, of course, in this forsaken world, her husband conveniently disappears.”
A silence followed, tense and thick. Angelica’s fingers twisted tightly together in her lap, white-knuckled. The anger wasn’t directed at any one person,no, this fury was older, deeper. It was for the rules that bound them, the customs that chained them, the expectations that dictated their lives without pause or mercy.
Across the room, Martha shifted slightly, her calm and steady voice echoing with wisdom only earnt through time
“You are not wrong, Angelica,” she said, her tone soft but firm, like the steel wrapped in silk she was known to be. “We women have been forced to accept the path laid before us for generations. Even when that path was paved with silence, and sacrifice, and pain.”
Angelica’s jaw clenched, but her eyes flickered to Martha, something in her expression easing, if only a little.
“But,” Martha continued, her gaze sweeping the room slowly, lingering briefly on each young face, “we are here, watching a world that no longer seems to live by those same chains. We are seeing a future. That means change can come, perhaps already has… and that alone is reason to hope. Even if it was not in our time.”
Burr’s eyes dropped to the floor, his shoulders tense, the weight of both past and future pressing against him. Angelica inhaled deeply through her nose, still rigid, still burning, but less alone in it now.
[BURR]
I’ll see you on the other side of the war
[HAMILTON]
I’ll see you on the other side of the war
The room was steeped in a heavy silence as the last notes of the song faded into nothing. The final lyrics,so stark, so unflinchingly real,echoed in the minds of the soldiers, conjuring images: blood-soaked fields, friends lost in the blink of an eye, the weight of orders that never left their conscience. No one moved, the room holding its breath under the sheer gravity of what had just been sung.
Phillip’s voice, tentative but earnest, broke through the stillness.
“That seems like a very dark outlook on the war, Pa.”
All eyes turned to him. The young man sat with his brows furrowed, lips slightly parted in confusion. He looked at Alexander not just as a father, but as a puzzle, this version of his father, so much younger than the man he had left in his own timeline, and yet carrying a weariness and steel that mirrored the elder version all the same.
Alexander let out a slow, tired breath, one that aged him in an instant. His smile was faint and tinged with sadness, the corners of his mouth barely twitching upward.
“It is the common way,,” he said, voice quiet but steady. “When you live in times like these, surrounded by death and uncertainty, you don’t dare plan for a future that might not exist.”
He paused, his eyes drifting toward the flickering screen that had shown them too much already.
“We do not know what will happen,” he continued, now looking back at Phillip. “There is no guarantee. We shall either see each other at the gallows… or in a free country. Either way, we meet again. On the other side of the war.”
Phillip's mouth opened slightly as though to respond, but no words came. His gaze softened, realization dawning slowly across his face. This was not cynicism he heard in his father's words, it was survival. A promise spoken from the trenches of uncertainty
Around the room, the others remained quiet.
Eliza rested her head on Alexander’s shoulder reaching across him to John, gripping his hand in hers. Her presence a comforting presence for both men. No words were spoken, but the gesture was enough