Zero Two Three One | John Laurens X Reader [Hamilton]

LXVIII: Seventy-Five Percent Human

❝An angel has no memory.❞
—Terry Southern

"Nikolai, how did you find Volkov? How do you know he is my father?"

"I had help, (Y/N)."

"From who?"

"A comrade of mine."

"They must be talented."

"Undoubtedly the most intuitive man I work with."

"Who is it?"

"Are you sure you want to know, (Y/N)?"

"Yes, Nikolai."

"Very well then. I shall organize a meeting before your departure back to America."

♙♟♙♟♙

All three of us are in this room. Me. Nikolai Ivanovich. Valentin Volkov. We sit in a triangle in mild silence for quite a long time. Volkov and I are supposed to talk and Nikolai wants to observe. 

I'd give anything not to talk to this man, but I don't have anything to give.

October 14, 2059.

"So... you are (Y/N) Vasiliev."

"And you are Valentin Volkov."

Another silence lingers.

I take a small sip of my coffee — it's fairly early in the morning, and it was just last night that Nikolai took Alexander and me on the rounds of persecution. I didn't get much sleep, especially after Nikolai basically kidnapped Volkov (at least I know I'm not the only one he kidnaps), and Nikolai insisted we deal with him this morning.

I demanded a cup of coffee, and now I'm facing him head-on. Valentin Volkov. My biological father.

"I believe the Americans refer to you as (Y/N) Hamilton," Volkov coos.

"So you recognize me just now?" I raise a brow. "You didn't last night."

"It was dark. And I was confused. And I didn't have my glasses."

That's right. Nikolai allowed Volkov to put himself together before we dragged him back to the Winter Palace. He looks like any other politician would; suit, tie, glasses, shiny shoes. He reeks of money. Money...

"I don't understand," Volkov mutters. "What are you doing here in Russia? And why would I be your father if you are from America? I have never set foot on that land, nor do I affiliate with anyone from there."

Nikolai temporarily intervenes. "Those questions do not need answers, Volkov. And I believe I already told you that you do not have control over this conversation. (Y/N) does."

I never thought that I would be thankful for Nikolai, but...

Volkov leans back in his seat, waiting for me to say something.

I take a long breath, searching deep within myself for anything to say. There isn't much.

"Do... do you remember my mother?"

Volkov shakes his head.

"Her name was Anastasia Vasiliev."

The moment I say her name, Volkov's face drops. "Anastasia... That was so long ago."

"You used her for your services," I whisper. "And I am the result."

"You... you are her child?"

I stiffly nod. "When I was conceived... you paid her off to assure her silence. To protect your marriage. Your political career. Your reputation. You paid her off — so the very laws set in place to prevent absentee fathers would never touch you."