Falling Through Time: Basking in Candlelight

Un

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AN

In honor of the publication of the third book of this series, I have gone through and edited this entire book. Hopefully, it's much better now.

There is some new content, different remarks, easier sentence structure, fixed grammar(probably still missed some cause I'm a moron like that). I hope you enjoy.

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My Dear Hammy's Rules For Reading

* This symbol ---- separates notes from story
* This one represents time skips or breaks in the story to signify a new character focus ***
* These ~~~ separate dreams, visions, memories and similar shit
* This ®®® will warn you for impending smut, placed before smut and after smut so you can just scrolled through
* And a sentence in case in *   *  Means that's a real quote said by the rl person of that character

Thank you for listening ^-^

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Warnings: None.

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Hamilton sat at his desk, head in his hands, shoulders weighed down with exhaustion. One look at him and one could easily tell he hadn't had a full night's rest in far too long. Thankfully, coffee existed. Bless the Lord. But sometimes coffee couldn't solve everything. A problem that plagued people that worked through the night on a daily basis, such as he, the room gets stuffy and confining. Hamilton ran his hands through his hair, making the already messy look even messier before he shoved away from his desk. One could only take so much, a walk is what he needed, even if it was just a short one. Just long enough to get out of his stuffy home office for a little while. Pulling on his coat one sleeve at a time, Hamilton made his way out the door and down the narrow, New York City road.

It was a quiet night, not much of a moon, but just enough to be able to see. He breathed deeply, the cold air filling his lungs and rejuvenating his energy. Nightly walks had become routine ever since the war ended, for reasons he'd rather not discuss. Eliza gave up on begging him to come back to bed a long time ago, a useless battle she had fought with him for far too long. At this point, Alexander wasn't sure if he even knew what sleep was anymore.

He stopped and peered up at the sky. It was a beautiful night, stars visibly twinkling above the world. With a sigh, he turned on his heel and returned to the house. The candle was still burning and his papers were just as he left them. Unable to convince himself to write out another page, he decided it was time he went to bed and disappeared into his room, lifting the heavy blankets and crawled beneath them, already warm from his loving wife. Hamilton enveloped her in his arms and pulled her close before drifting off.

The next morning arrived a couple hours later, but to Hamilton, it felt like only seconds. Exhaustion dragged at his muscles and seemed to glue his eyes closed. Why did he do this to himself? Every night he told himself he should go to bed earlier, get some real rest, and every night he failed in the endeavor. He just had so much work to do. Hamilton disentangled himself from Eliza's clinging arms, threw off the blankets, rubbing the back of his neck as he slouched over the edge of the bed, feet pressed against the ice cold floor. The sun shined through the open windows, a soft breeze stirring the curtains, signaling it was at least half past nine.

Shit! He slept in. Hamilton jumped out of bed, startling Eliza awake, muttered apologies as he threw on his clothes and gathered his papers in a messy pile. Still stuffing them haphazardly into his case as he bolted out the door, still tying his necktie.

Nothing like a panicked morning run to wake the bones and jumpstart the brain.

Hamilton skidded into work, smoothing back his hair and straightening his clothes. He placed himself behind his desk and dumped his papers out, scattering them around, trying to make it look like he'd been working all morning and hadn't shown up late. In doing so, he accidentally knocked his inkwell to the floor, shattering and ink running everywhere.

Hamilton swore. This morning was turning out just perfect so far. The only thing he needed now was-

"Secretary Hamilton! So glad you showed up today. I was getting rather hopeful," Thomas Jefferson leaned against his doorway, picking his nails, "I was beginning to think you got run over by a carriage. "

"Good morning to you too, Secretary Jefferson. You should know better by now, getting run over by a carriage is much too dull a way for me to go. Sounds perfect for you though, you should give it a shot," Hamilton responded, sorting through all his papers.

"Mmm," Jefferson hummed, "That's right, you fancy yourself a martyr. Waiting for another war? Are you going to be able to last that long? You seem ready to keel over at any second. Do me the favor and make it soon."

Hamilton scoffed, "We both know that we're too fragile for any war right now, Mr. Secretary. You think me weak? You're passed over ripe my friend, maybe it's about time to retire. I hear Virginia is really nice this time of year. Why don't you go home?"

"And leave you running the nation? I think not. You can't even keep your office clean," Jefferson tutted, "Ink stains on the floor, papers running away in the wind. Next, you'll knock over a candle and set your desk on fire. And you think you can run a nation? As if."

Hamilton sighed, " As much as I enjoy this-" he waved his hand in the air, searching for the proper words "-morning conversation, I really must work. Perhaps you should try it for once. You might actually accomplish something." Hamilton straightened out his papers and set about cleaning up the mess of black ink that would soon start soaking into the floors, obviously dismissing Jefferson.

"If you're intent on keeping your position, at least get some sleep so you don't screw it up more than you already have," Jefferson said as he left, closing the door and walking down the hallway chuckling to himself, his cane hitting smartly against the wooden floor boards.

A brand new nation placed in the hands of Hamilton and Jefferson? Can't wait to get started.

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