I took a deep breath as I walked out of the house, relishing the fresh sensation that the crisp air brought with it. An icy breeze seemed to bite into my nose, and the air I exhaled left a puff of steam drifting up into the frigid night sky.
There, that's better. I bet those history books they teach from back home never mention how stuffy eighteenth-century houses are.
I knew full-well that the lack of ventilation hadn't been the only thing bothering me inside the Hamiltons' house, but I decided to overlook the mixed sensation of guilt and nausea that I'd felt when Alexander had brought up Laurens-- it was easy to forget, now that the fresh night air had driven away the clouded emotions in my head.
I wandered aimlessly onto the street, not entirely sure where I was heading but knowing what I wanted to avoid. I absentmindedly kept track of the route I was following, not in the mood to get lost in 18th century New York. I passed by several familiar places, all of which I stayed a safe distance away from. If Clint came looking for me, he'd start with places we knew-- so the fewer of those place I visited, the higher my chances of avoiding him were.
Not much later I found myself strolling through an vaguely familiar park, which bore some resemblance to Central Park as I knew it. But that could've easily been my imagination seeing what it wanted to see-- after all, I had no idea whether Central Park even existed yet.
By then, the chilly air which had originally been such a relief was starting to become a nuisance, and I rubbed my arms in an attempt to stay warm. My legs were starting to complain about my unexpected half-marathon, and my stomach voiced its dissatisfaction with my decision to leave before the meal.
"Yeah yeah, I get it, you need food," I grumbled to my stomach, searching for a good spot to sit down to give my feet a break, "why are you so picky now, anyway? I had a decent lunch, and you've gone much longer without food than this. I bet it was the smell of Eliza's food-- oh perfect Cat, now you're talking about food, that only makes it worse. Stellar decision-making."
I found a bench beside the path, close to a solitary lantern lit with a flickering flame. The unsteady light made the whole park seem more threatening, but that was the least of my problems-- the complaints of my stomach were much more pressing.
I sat down, propping my head up with my hands as I stared ahead into the bushes.
I wonder if they've saved me some leftovers, I'm starving. Why did I decide to leave again?
I sighed, attempting to force my thoughts along a different track to get my focus away from food.
"I wonder if we'll ever make it home," I muttered softly to myself, "I mean, Bruce said that after the war he'd have more technology to his disposal, but... I have no idea if he's made any progress at all. For all I know, we're stranded here. What if--"
My sentence was rudely interrupted by the sound of a twig snapping somewhere behind me, and I was instantly on full alert.
What was THAT?
Every fibre of my body was tensed and ready to strike at the slightest trigger, even though to onlookers I would've looked just as relaxed as before, showing no external sign of having heard the barely audible snap. I listened carefully, and could juuuust make out steady footsteps crunching on the crisp grass. It was an even pace-- the person didn't seem to be sneaking --but that didn't mean they had good intentions.
The moving shadows that the flickering lantern cast everywhere only made matters worse, and every shadow looked like it could belong to an army.
Are the British back? Is there some other civil war going on? I should've asked Janet about these sort of things before heading out...
Out of nowhere, I felt a hand on my shoulder, and heard a short "hi" from behind me.
Without thinking I spun around, vaulting over the bench and striking blindly at the person that had been standing behind me. Said person sprung backwards in surprise-- but not quite fast enough, because I felt my nails make contact with skin. I fell back into a defence position, my hands clenched into fists with the automatism that came with years of training and experience.
Only then did I pause to see whom I'd attacked, and my eyes widened in surprise.
"Laurens?!?"
Laurens looked like he'd been stunned into shock, holding his hand against his left cheek.
"Cat." he stated, still dazed.
"Laurens!" I repeated, as if that would make the fact that it was really him sink in faster, "I'm so so sorry, it's just that you kind of surprised me, and I didn't realize it was you, and--
Laurens lowered his hand to inspect it, revealing a smudge of blood on his palm and a scratch on his cheek that was bleeding slightly.
"Is that blood?" I exclaimed in surprise, "aw shoot you're bleeding, I'm really sorry, does it hurt? We should get you cleaned up-- arghhh, this is all my fault, I was just so deep in thought and the lantern only made this place creepier and that's not and excuse I know but arghhh I'm so so sorry, I should've thought before just blindly attacking, but I didn't, and now you're hurt, and--"
As I rambled I'd pulled a handkerchief out of one of my pockets, reaching forwards to try and clean the wound. Laurens pulled back with a soft chuckle, finally overcoming the moment of shock and shaking his head with a smile.
"I'm fine Cat, I promise," he reassured me, holding up his hands to keep me from dabbing him with the handkerchief, "it's just a scratch, I barely even feel it."
I bit my lip guiltily, still holding onto the handkerchief.
"You're sure?"
"Absolutely," he answered, and I hesitantly put the handkerchief back into my pockets.
"If you say so."
There was a momentary pause, and then I sat down again on the bench-- facing Laurens, this time.
"Why are you here, anyway?" I frowned.
"I could ask the same of you," he pointed out, "I just happened to be taking an evening stroll when I heard what sounded like a very upset Cat muttering to herself, so I thought I'd see whether I could cheer her up."
He touched the scratch on his cheek, which had stopped bleeding out but was still a dark red.
"I have to say, that did not go the way I thought it would."
I ducked my head, an embarrassed blush heating up my cheeks.
"I'm really sorry," I apologized, "I didn't mean to hurt you. Well I did sort of, but I didn't know it was you, so I--"
"You don't have to apologize, Cat," Laurens chuckled, "This one's on me-- I should've known better than to surprise a skilled warrior."
I dropped my gaze to the floor, a red blush spreading over my cheeks.
"I'm not that skilled."
"You didn't get mortally wounded in a skirmish, that's more than I can say," Laurens smirked.
"Laurens!" I protested, "don't make me scratch you again."
"For what, complimenting you? I'll take it."
"What? No-- never mind."
I let out a soft sigh, and Laurens moved to sit next to me on the bench.
"Is something wrong, Catherine?"
I paused hesitantly. Was something wrong?
"I'm fine," I lied, cringing slowly as my voice cracked mid-sentence, making it very clear that I was not fine.
"You sound like something's bothering you," Laurens answered gently, "if you need to talk about it... well, we're alone now."
I sighed in resignation.
"You really don't give up, do you?"
Laurens smiled slightly.
"I can't help if I don't know what's bothering you," he pointed out, "and if you get back to the base looking this upset, your brother will literally kill me."
"I'm not upset," I protested, and Laurens raised one eyebrow in disbelief.
"Fine," I sighed again, "I'm a bit upset. I just... Nat said something earlier this evening. She pointed out how 'the greater good' didn't do an awful lot of good in motivating me, and hinted at that we don't know each other well at all yet. I don't think she's completely right, but... it couldn't hurt to improve our communication skills."
"I couldn't agree more," Laurens nodded, "you have to remember, Cat-- we're from different centuries. Our worlds aren't just physically different; we also have different ideals, different figures of speech, and different situations. It's essential that we keep communicating, otherwise misunderstandings are inevitable."
"I think they may be inevitable as-is, but at least we can keep them to a minimum," I smiled slightly.
"Was that all?" Laurens canted his head to one side, the light of the flickering lantern dancing over his freckles as he did so.
"Yes-- well actually, no," I admitted, "there was one more thing I wanted to say... back with Burr, before the cabinet battle? I sort of expected you to back me up, and well, you didn't, and it kinda threw me off. I don't need a knight in shining armour-- like you said, I can take care of myself --but some backup would be nice."
I took a deep breath.
"But," I continued, "I do see your reasoning, and, well, it makes sense. If the whole space-time continuum were to collapse because Burr recognized you, it wouldn't matter anymore how I felt. It just..."
"...I understand," Laurens answered softly, taking my hands into his, "it's a complicated equation, one that is weighed in the mind rather than in the heart."
My cheeks lit up at the contact, and I silently berated my heart for beating as loudly as it was. I'd been around Laurens for weeks now, and still he had the ability to make me helpless at the slightest touch.
"You're such a poet, Laurens," I muttered.
"Speaking of which..." Laurens grinned, taking a scroll out of his jacket and handing it to me.
"You didn't--" I breathed in awe, reverently taking the scroll.
"It's an old poem," Laurens excused himself in advance, "I wrote it after the Winter's Ball, but never got the chance to complete it. I gave it to Hercules for safekeeping, and I thought I'd pick it up and finish it today so I could give it to it's rightful owner."
My eyes flickered from Laurens to the scroll, unsure whether he expected me to read it now or later, and too stunned to formulate a decent sentence to ask him which was the case.
Laurens chuckled softly.
"You can read it later, if you want, that way you don't have me staring at you while you do. Not that I particularly mind staring at something so awe-inspiring as yourself."
I nodded, putting the scroll into my jacket and trying my best to hide the deep red blush that was dominating my cheeks.
There was a moment of silence between us, but for the first time in a while it was truly calm. There was no awkwardness, no secrets, no grudges. No cold or hunger, no dangerous situations, no world outside the two of us.
Laurens ran his fingers through my hair, and I leaned against his shoulder.
We sat there, side by side, for what felt like forever. But even this forever came to an end eventually, when my stomach let out a complaining growl.
"Sorry," I mumbled, "I didn't eat a lot before I left."
Laurens smiled, ruffling my hair one last time before standing up, making sure that I wouldn't topple off-balance in the process.
"In that case, you probably ought to return to the others," he suggested gently, "it's not that I want this moment to end-- if it were up to me, we would sit here until the end of time --but I fear that your friends may be starting to become concerned for your well-being, and I'd hate to cause them to worry."
I nodded slowly, standing up as well.
"You're probably right. I'll head back, and I'll see you back at our base, I assume?"
"Yes, I'll probably head in that direction now, it's rather late already."
I nodded again thoughtfully.
"Well then, I'll be off," I decided, "see you later. And Laurens?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you."