Becoming A Founding "Father"- Historical Hamilton

Chapter Thirteen: The Delaware River

I'm still taller than Alexander after all these years. Alexander is twenty, but he doesn't look like it at all- and I'm... twenty-four, now twenty-five.

"Happy birthday to me," I laugh to myself on the tenth of October, as I munch on a sausage that I managed to buy with my meager pay. It's delicious, and I savor the treat. Humming the birthday song, I walk around New York. Maybe I should try to find the owner of that bracelet again, but that thought quickly gets interrupted.

A soldier with a red coat passes me, chatting to another soldier in an obnoxious British accent.

---

"The redcoats took New York," is what Mulligan said the moment I came back. I don't reply. I don't talk for the rest of the day, in fact.

How could this happen? How could they take New York? That's impossible, and yet here we are. I didn't know how to feel, so I just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. They had no right, New York belongs to America- it always did, and it always shall!

The past, present, and future muddle in my brain, making me glare at the ceiling with distain. God, why was I the one who... found myself here? Wouldn't it make more sense for an actual American to be in my shoes?

Alexander sits on the side of my bed after a few hours. It's dark out already. He sighs, obviously affected by this, too. "How do you feel?"

"Lost," I reply honestly. Alexander hums, laying down by my side. His violet blue eyes are filled with some emotion that I can't recognise.

"Scared? Unsure?"

I furrow my brows. "Oh, definitely not." Why should I be scared? After all, Americans get what they want in the end, there's no doubt in that. "I'm confused, and lost. The British still suck, though."

"Suck?"

"Language thing, sorry. Still hate the British and their fucking taxes." Alexander smiles at that, averting his eyes to the ceiling. I do so, too.

"I hold the same sentiments, Sol." Now I know how he felt when I called him Alex. Silence ensues.

Alexander breathes in. "We can't stay in New York anymore. We'll have to leave tomorrow."

Another moment of silence. I count the marks on the ceiling, knowing that I'll probably never see them again. "What about Mr Mulligan?"

"He stays in New York. No person knows that he is a patriot but us and Cato. He will keep in touch with other Sons of Liberty, giving them British intelligence. A spy, so to speak."

---

"A tailor spying on the British government, I take their measurements, information and then I smuggle it!"

---

"Hmm." That seemed familiar, but I couldn't put a finger on it.

"...Do you think that this revolution will work?" Alexander asks quietly. "I... Believe in the cause, and am willing to die for it, but... I do have doubts, I suppose."

I huff out a laugh. "Oh, it will definitely work, I've got no doubt about it." Of course it will, I couldn't imagine a world without America. "One day, this will all pay off, and this'll be a free country."

"Do you honestly believe such things?"

"Of course I do. And I'm sure that we'll both live to see it." I turn to look at Alexander. "I'll make you a deal- one day, when we win and the war's done, we'll come back to New York and sleep under this roof again."