❝Somebody may beat me, but they are going to have to bleed to do it.❞
—Steve Prefontaine
Charles Lee said he'd take responsibility and suffer the consequences if Alexander and I are caught, but that doesn't mean we're not cautious.
December 5, 2058.
We're in the small house along the harbor, and a meeting is about to begin.
"Are they dog sitting again?" Admiral Hopkins asks, his tone droned with annoyance.
"Yeah," Lee answers, patting Hermes softly before sending him off to Alexander and me.
Hopkins nearly rolls his eyes, but he joins Admiral Whipple into the conference room. Burr, Hercules, and Richard Howe follow shortly. Susannah, grasping onto John's hand tightly, giggles at something he said.
I hate how he's smiling so brightly at her. I hate how he seems to love her laugh. I hate that he has completely forgotten my presence with Susannah batting her eyelashes and flashing her girly smiles.
I hate how Susannah is taking my pawn.
I say nothing as they stride together into the conference room. I listen for a moment, hoping to hear Admiral Hopkins tell John to let go of his daughter, but nothing like that happens.
Instead, I draw my attention back to Lee.
Now that it's just him, Alexander, and me, Lee takes a deep breath and dives into a final chat.
"Remember the plan, Hamiltons?"
"Yes."
"Remember the room?"
"Yes."
"Remember what you're looking for?"
"Yes."
"Remember how much time you have?"
"Yes."
"Remember what to do if worse comes to worst?"
"Yes."
"Righteo. As soon as I'm gone, go do what you have to. We don't have much time. Don't get caught."
"Yes, sir."
Lee looks down at Hermes. "Stay with them, okay, boy?"
Hermes whimpers, but he seems to understand that he must obey. With that settled, Lee offers us one more nod, then he turns away and saunters casually into the conference room.
I look at Alexander, nodding to him.
"Let's do this."
Frankly, we have not a moment to spare.
With privacy granted to us, we dash out of the room, Hermes bounding behind us. We need to return here before their meeting ends so it looks like we never moved, but in the meantime, we have a duty to fulfill.
We step out onto the harbor, the afternoon air thick with tension. Maybe I'm psyching myself out, but...
"Head down, (Y/N)," Alexander whispers to me. "No need to draw attention."
Several soldiers are along the harbor, taking the afternoon off. A group of soldiers dares another soldier to jump into the water. Another group is chasing around snakes they found burrowed in the dirt. Others are laughing and singing some sort of song. As all of this happens, the Navy watches from the docked ships, shaking their heads in disapproval.
A very large group goggles at a new British ship that arrived earlier today. It's a carrier ship, so it is used for the transportation of air crafts. Strangely enough, there is only one fighter jet on the ship. Apparently, it's a new model created by the British. It sure does look spectacular, and it captures the attention of many soldiers.
This morning, Lee snuck us into the USS Candace, the large ship where the Admirals and Generals (save Howe) reside. Lee gave Alexander and me a brief tour of the rooms. More specifically, he showed us where Susannah's personal cabin is. While she is busy in that meeting with everyone else, we're going to search her room.
We do our best to remain under the radar as we board the Candace, waiting until none of the sailors are looking our way. When we stride onto the ship, we immediately go below deck.
It's luckily vacant down here; no one to hide from. We saunter through the ship with a sure skip to our step. We may have only been given a short look around this place, but our memory is sharp, and we remember exactly where to go.
"It was on the left, right?" Alexander murmurs to me, not exactly unsure of himself, but seeming to want confirmation for the hell of it.
"Yeah."
We take a few turns, passing other cabins that Lee pointed out (like John's and Burr's cabin) before we finally reach Susannah's cabin.
This is it.
Hermes, as if knowing that we're engaging in some risky business, whines and gently bites the end of my sleeve, trying to tug me away.
"Come on, Hermes," I whisper. "Be a good boy."
Alexander reaches out a hand and grasps the door handle. Taking a deep breath, he builds up his courage and opens the door.
I'm not sure what we expected. A big Russian or Brazilian flag with hearts around it? A big sign saying "Hey, I'm a spy"? Nikolai Ivanovich himself?
It's none of that. What we see is utterly anticlimactic: it's a normal office. It looks quite similar to Howe's office in the HMS Marigold; desk, bookshelf, windows, and small seating space in the corner. It's surprisingly neat and tidy, almost as though it were never used.
Bright light streams in from the window like long fingers of luminescence, shining into each corner of the room, giving it a sort of warm feeling. For a moment, I thought we entered the wrong room; no way a spy's room would be this neat. but I retrace our steps and confirm we are indeed in the right room.
This is Susannah's cabin.
Alexander takes out his phone and snaps a photo of the room from the doorway. Frankly, I didn't know he had his phone on him. I give him a confused brow raise, and he wastes no time to explain.
"We need to make sure we leave everything exactly the same way we found it. Not a single detail can be off."
I nod to show my understanding, and once he takes a few more pictures of the room, we enter, closing the door behind us and locking it.
"Sit," I whisper to Hermes. He obeys, whining in a high tone as he watches Alexander and I begin our search.
Naturally, we begin at the desk. The surface is clean and empty, so we search through the drawers. There's a lot of miscellaneous things in the drawers, but nothing that sparks any suspicion. Ship manuals. Inventory documents. Dated reports to other Navy Admirals. Within the drawers is personal belongings as well: a wallet, lady hygiene products, vitamins, a couple of photos of her, Admiral Hopkins, and a woman who I assume is her mother.
While Alexander looks through the wallet cautiously, I open her vitamin bottles to make sure she didn't store a secret note within. I then flip through the family photos, searching for anything of significance.
"Find anything?" Alexander murmurs.
I sigh and reorder the images to how they were previously. "Nothing. You?"
"I found her credit card. Want to commit credit card fraud and go on a shopping spree?"
"Cyka blyat."
"It was a joke. Come on, let's keep looking."
Hermes gently barks as we pass him on our way to the bookshelf.
Alexander starts on the top left corner while I start on the bottom righ corner, pulling the books off the shelves and flipping through their pages. I suppose we're hoping for something to fall out from the pages. Or maybe we want a scenario similar to the cliche movie scenes in which pulling a specific book will magically push aside the fake bookshelf. No such thing happens, and by the time Alexander and I meet in the middle, we are still empty-handed.
As Alexander saunters over to the two-chair seating area on the opposite corner, I graze my hand down the spine one of the books. All of these books are in English except for one: 1984 by George Orwell. This book is not in English.
The book title is familiar. Alexander read the book I believe, although I do not know what it is about. But I can only read the title, for it is numbers. I pull the book off the shelf and flip through the pages, unable to read any of them. The language is foreign to me. It definitely isn't Russian or English. It doesn't look like French or German. What language is it?
I set the book back in its place, then rejoin Alexander. He finished searching the seating area and is now running his hands up and down the walls, vigorously hunting for anything. Surely there has to be a single piece of damning evidence around here.
Hermes nips at my hand, but I pull away quickly. "Sit," I repeat.
He whines and looks down.
I watch from afar as Alexander continues the exploration. He scouts the room up and down, gradually becoming more and more impatient as time passes. He is more reckless with his alterations to the room. He carelessly tosses books onto the floor as though we missed something the first time we checked. He hastily rummages back into the drawers once again.
It turns into some sort of fit of rage. I can hear him breathing heavily. I catch a glimpse of his violet eyes, fires of fury and hatred smoldering in them. It nearly scorches me. I drop my gaze, letting him burn his fire out.
I have half a mind to tell him to stop, but I don't have the guts to. Frankly, I'd rather him fuck this room up and find some evidence than to walk out empty-handed.
After ten minutes of vigorous searching, Alexander pounds on the desk and leans over it, his elbow laying on the surface, propping his head up. Is he accepting defeat?
He murmurs under his breath in Russian, although I can't make out what he's saying. Instead, I busy myself by cleaning up after him. I am slow and steady as I return the books in their rightful spot. I saunter over to the desk and rearrange the things in them, closing them gently.
Then, as I am on the opposite side of the desk as Alexander, I look up to him. His eyes are cast downward, spite and rage steaming within. His auburn hair is tousled messily from his fit of ferocity. The growing locks almost droop in front of his face, partially covering one eye.
I sigh heavily, then reach my hand over, brushing away his hair with a soft stroke. Alexander tenses up for a moment, but upon the familiar feeling of my hand, he leans into my touch, the fire in his eyes extinguishing slightly.
"I don't get it," Alexander whisper. "We should have found something. Anything."
"It's not your fault," I assure him, striding around the desk and turning him to face me.
"But Susannah has to be up to something," Alexander reasons. "We heard everything she said, and we have those forged documents from Nikolai."
I fix the collar of his uniform and straighten the ends of his sleeves out. "Maybe we were wrong all along. Maybe we are going crazy."
Alexander's eyes flicker to lock with mine for a moment. His expression is one of despondency. I wanted to find solid proof as much as he did, but it seems to be affecting him in a way it doesn't for me. It looks like he was stripped of some hope.
He must have seen this as our chance to make an actual change. Take a large leap. Float to the finish line. No doubt we'd be praised if we caught a spy and exposed her. Our ability and intelligence would be glorified. We'd rise in the ranks faster than a bullet.
Our chances are diminishing by the second.
"It could be all in our mind. We're thinking up things. We're going crazy," I repeat.
Alexander sighs heavily, patting my head, his violet eyes glistening with affection. "You make me crazy, (Y/N)."
I pout in slight annoyance and try to swat his hand away. Alexander reacts quick enough to grasp my wrist and pull me into a tight embrace, my face pressed to his warm chest, his arms wrapped around me. I return the hug.
We remain there for a while, silently expressing our concern with this mild show of affection.
Is it over then?
A second later, I pull away, keeping Alexander at arm's length as I release a sigh.
"Let's go. We'll just tell Lee we couldn't find anything and it's time to drop the investigation."
Alexander, solemn and soft, nods.
When we turn, we're met with the odd sight of Hermes hoping. He leaps to his hind legs for a moment, then he slams his front legs down in a rather forceful manner.
"Hermes, stop," I order.
Rather than obeying, the black German Shepherd whines and barks. Loud.
"Stop it!" I hiss, knowing full well that Hermes most likely can't understand me. "You're going to get us caught!"
I slide over to Hermes, kneeling to match his height and try to restrain him with a hug. That's when I notice the exact spot I told Hermes to sit on looks odd. One of the shiny wood planks is raised in the slightest, and with every stomp Hermes impacts on it, it raises a little more.
"What's that?" Alexander asks, stepping closer upon seeing the plank.
"No idea," I coo. I am transfixed.
I catch the hint and run my fingers along the plank, looking for a spot large enough for me to grasp. When my fingers slip under the plank, I tug it upward with all my strength, falling back when I pull it off the floor.
Hermes seems satisfied that I finally addressed what he had been trying to lead us to. This dog is way smarter than I thought. I compose myself back on my knees, tossing the plank aside as I watch Alexander approach the small space underneath the floorboards.
Hermes smells it deeply, then barks madly, his sharp calls echoing in my ears.
Alexander reaches within the space and pulls out a set of ten documents. Letters. Evidence.
♙♟♙♟♙
We reported back to Lee yesterday and spent the entire night thinking of a plan.
The letters we found were from a Brazilian Air Force General who gained some fame for his verbal attacks on America and President Eaton. He is a big Cuban sympathizer... And Susannah has been communicating with him for some time.
Alexander and I don't know Portuguese (the language of the Brazilians) but Lee does... which I was surprised to learn. We took pictures of the documents and showed them to Lee, who read them privately.
It took quite a while for him to tell us his findings, and even when he did, he left a lot out. He gave us the basic rundown.
Susannah is also a Cuban sympathizer who was furious when the AC invaded the country and took it over. It encouraged her to contact the Brazilians and ally herself with them. For the longest time, they have been calculating a perfect time for the Brazilians to reclaim Cuba and relocate the displaced Cubans home. Susannah was willing to help.
We just don't know how when.
December 6, 2058.
We're with Lee on the harbor. This morning, we repeated our plan over a warm cup of tea. This afternoon, it is time to execute the plan.
It's a minor step. We don't intend to target Susannah just yet. It would be fruitless if we can't rally any allies of our own, and as the situation stands, everyone is on Susannah's side. So it is up to us to convince the other higher-ups that Susannah is a rat
It's my move, and I can't mess up.
"Righteo, (Y/N)," Lee whispers to me. "Are you ready?"
"Ready for what?" I raise a brow.
Lee motions to one of the boats. "To go in there and convince Laurens that Susannah is a bloody spy."
John, seeing as he may be one of the harder people to convince, is our first target.
"Why don't you do it?" I suggest quickly, unwilling to dive into this rabbit hole.
Lee laughs heartily. "I'm not mental. I wouldn't be able to convince the horse humper that the sky is blue. He'll stand against anything I say."
"Then you should do it," I say, looking at Alexander.
He shakes his head. "No way in hell."
"Why not?" I cry out.
"Bros don't do that."
So they're "bros" now?!
"So why do I have to do it?" I whine.
"You're already sucking his wank, (Y/N)," Lee explains. "He'll be more likely to believe you."
Alexander looks at Lee. "Did you really just say that to my sister?"
Lee nods fearlessly. "Yes."
Alexander blinks, then nods back.
"Fair enough."
"Look, I have nothing with John," I interrupt, hoping my cheeks aren't red.
Lee raises a brow in doubt. Alexander merely looks away, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Alexander doesn't like me being alone with John, but when it comes to the mission, I can do whatever the fuck I want? Is that how it is?!
Alright, Alexander. Alright.
"Fine, I'll do it," I hiss, figuring there is no point putting up a fight. "Where the hell is that Southern man?"
Lee motions to the same boat as before. "In there. He goes into the USS March every day around this time."
"To do what?" I ask as we stride down the harbor to this boat.
"Why would I know?" Lee asks. "Probably jerking off or something."
Alexander laughs (male humor), but I cringe and roll my eyes.
"Whatever. But you two better be the ones to talk to Burr after this."
"Count on it, bird," Lee nods.
We stride onto the deck of the USS March. There are a few sailors aboard already, but none of them give us much attention.
"You guys will wait for me up on deck, right?" I ask, turning to my two male counterparts.
"Sure," Alexander nods. "Go on, (Y/N). And don't mess this up."
I stick out my tongue, then I turn on my heel and stride below deck. The USS March is one of the larger ships in this Navy base — more than five times the size of the USS Shannon. I haven't been on this ship before, but I have seen John here a couple of times... with Susannah.
The ship below deck is incredibly spacious. I have a hunch that this is where most of the sailors "live". There are rooms labeled as sleeping quarters. There's a mess hall and several radio rooms for communication. A couple of arsenals, maintenance rooms, and shower rooms.
For a few minutes, I walk around looking like a fucking idiot, gaping at everything I see. At one point, a sailor exits from a radio room and gives me a weird look. I smiled innocently and dashed around a corner in the calmest possible manner.
I must look like a lost puppy. Where the hell is John?
I have half a mind to give up and find him later, but that's when I pass by a gym.
I suppose it would make sense for there to be a gym on this boat — sailors have to remain fit somehow.
I get mini, PTSD-like flashbacks to the first month of advance training. That was hell. I nearly walk right past the gym, but I hear something that catches my attention: breathing.
Unlike the rest of the ship, silent as the grave, there is a sign of life here. Could it be...?
I silently stride to the open-mouth entrance, large and welcoming. From this angle at the doorway, I have a view of the entire gym. It's pretty big and lined up with equipment I can't even begin to name. Equipment to work on cardio, endurance, and overall strength.
As for now, there is no one in the gym... except for John Laurens.
I catch sight of him a the far end of the gym. He's... shirtless.
He's doing bench presses. I can't see perfectly from over here, but I think he's bench-pressing around 250lbs. Woah. He lifts the massive barbell up and down five times. Ten times... a total of twenty-five times. Impressive.
With his reps done, he sets the barbell on the rest and sits up. I prepare to make my move, feeling my cheeks flush with every passing moment. Unfortunately, before I can build up my courage, John strides over to pull up bars. He reaches for the bars, then begins to do several pull-ups.
Should I be watching?!
I mean... why not? There's no harm in simply looking at his workout. It's quite impressive. He has already done thirty pull-ups with ease, and he hasn't tired out yet.
I can see his muscles flex with every movement he makes. My knees buckle and shake for some unapparent reason. What I do know is that this is quite a pleasant show. I'm practically salivating.
I turn away for a moment, hating the thoughts that enter my mind. What is wrong with me?! This is extremely weird! I shouldn't be watching him workout. Especially since he's without a shirt! I should just strut in, make an entrance, act like it was an accident, and go on from there. I'll seem innocent! There will be no issue from there! Then we can go on talking as though it never happened.
Yes, that's an excellent plan. He'll never know that I was totally staring at him, salivating like a fucking dog-
"(Y/N)?"
Cyka blyat.
I turn back around and see John striding towards me, a small towel in his hands and gym bag over his shoulders.
He must have seen me.
My tongue twists around in my mouth for a while as John approaches me, and it is only when he stands a couple of feet away from me that I finally gather my words.
"Oh, hey!" I almost gasp. "I didn't know you were here!"
I swear, (Y/N). Do not look down. You do not need to check him out right now.
"I didn't know you were 'ere either... were you just standin' out 'ere or what?" John asks, patting his sweaty forehead with the towel.
"Umm, yeah... I was actually looking for someone, but I guess they're not here. But you are, so..."
"Yeah..."
"Mhmm..."
"Yup..."
This isn't fucking awkward or anything. It's not like I want to curl up into a ball and die right now. Am I... am I drooling? I wipe the corner of my mouth and drop my gaze, suddenly finding interest in the floor.
Mmm yes. Very interesting floor we have here. Looks like a floor should. I think the floor is made out of floor. That's good news, considering it's a floor...
"Are you okay?"
I dart my eyes back up to meet with John's hazel ones, nodding fervently. "I'm fine! I'm totally fine!"
"You look a little red."
"Oh... It's just pretty hot... in here."
John laughs. "Maybe it's me."
Instead of taking this as a joke, I substantiate it. "I think it is too."
Goddammit. Did I really just say that.
John pauses, a flattered smile growing on his face. "I, uh-"
"John, can you shower or something?" I interrupt. "You smell like sweat."
John dramatically puts his hand over his heart. "Ouch. Maybe because I just worked out."
"Yes, now clean yourself up."
John smirks. "Only if you promise to stick 'round until I'm done. I've been meanin' to ask you somethin'."
I falter for a moment. Ask me something? What does he want to know?
I force a small grin, then nodded. "Fine. Don't take too long."
I stay by the gym as John leaves to one of the shower rooms.
While he's gone, I collect my thoughts and compose myself. I did not expect to come across a shirtless John today... And yet, I regret not getting a good enough look at him.
At least Lee was wrong in saying John was jerking off... Unless he's doing that right now as he's showering. Shit, I don't know what men do with their manly needs.
I need to somehow steer this encounter into what I want. Lee and Alexander are waiting above deck for me. They're counting on me to rally John with us! It's an essential leap in taking down Susannah. If John wants to tell me something, then it's going to have to wait. I need to tell him my news first.
After about ten minutes of waiting, John returns, his hair wet and slightly tousled. He's clean of sweat and has a fresh scent to him. A sort of masculine, natural aroma that entices me. He's no longer shirtless, but he wears a sleeveless muscle shirt that displays his impressive biceps quite well.
Ahh, how I would love to-
Shit, I can't get distracted. Hormones? Fuck them. I have to get this over with.
"I can't believe you actually waited," John chirps, a smile on his face.
"Well, I said I would," I reply.
"Okay, so the thing I wanted to talk to you about..." John trails off.
"Yeah, I have something to tell you to."
John doesn't seem to be listening to me much. "You're a girl right?"
"It's really important, and you won't want to believe me, but..."
"And you understand how girls work."
"But just know I would never lie to you, John."
"So I'm just wonderin'... how do I know if a girl is interested in me?"
I bite my tongue, completely forgetting what I was going to ask him when this sudden interest in his question is sparked.
Do I dare venture? I should dismiss the question and carry on with what I intended to do, but...
"Interested in you?"
John, with that charming smile still on his face, nods. "I mean, I think she is, but I want to be sure before I make any moves."
"Who's 'she'?"
"Susannah."
"Cyka blyat."
John's smile falters, perhaps understanding by now that this Russian phrase isn't a positive one. "What's wrong?"
I run my hand through my hair, a million thoughts crashing and colliding in my mind like cars on a highway. Dangerous. If I'm not careful, this could end with fatalities.
"Nothing," I wave off. "It's just that... Uh, what makes you think she likes you?"
John shrugs innocently. "She seems to like spendin' time with me, and she likes askin' me 'bout my personal life."
"Sounds like a creep," I huff. I'm so jealous.
"But she's real sweet 'bout it," John elaborates. "She compliments me a lot... She said I'm funny and-"
"Maybe she's just being nice."
John lets this sink in for a moment, then he shakes his head. "But I think she might be interested in somethin' more than a friendship."
"And you think that's a good idea?"
"Well, maybe not at the moment, but further down the line-"
"Are you interested in her?"
"I mean... maybe."
"John, this isn't a maybe. Yes or no."
"I don't know for sure."
I cross my arms, feeling my insides boil with annoyance. Susannah has my pawn! She's backed him into a corner. She's toying with him. She's convincing him to join her side. She's been doing this under the radar during her turns and I tried to ignore it.
"If you don't know, why bother asking me?" I snap. I'm seldom this rude to John, and he quickly notices. Seeming to be unwilling to add fuel to the fire, he tries to extinguish it with a gentle voice.
"I thought you could help me figure it out."
"Well, I'm not going to. Especially since it involves her."
I try to turn away, aggravated to the point of desiring escape, but John reaches out and grasps my hand. The contact sends flutters of emotions in my stomach, but I swallow hard and glare at him.
"What's wrong with Susannah?" he asks. I hate how kind he is being. I want him to yell at me. I don't want to feel like the bad guy.
"What isn't wrong with her?" I yank my hand away. "Have you ever listened to a word she said, or were you too busy goggling at her tits to notice?!"
John takes a small step back, his brows furrowed. "What do you have against Susannah? I don't get it."
I turn my back on him, my fists clenched to my side. "Just drop it, John."
"No, I mean it. I knew you didn't like her from the very start, but I brushed it off because I've noticed that's just the way you are."
"John, drop it."
I begin to make my way through the ship, retracing my steps in search of the stairway to lead back onto the deck. I'm hoping that John would let me walk away, but he stays right behind me, calling out to me.
"I figured since she tried to be nice, you'd come 'round. I was hopin' you'd come 'round; I don't like seein' you so mad all the time. I like it better when you smile. But you haven't dropped the grudge."
"Stop."
"Is it a girl thing? Are all women catty like that? If she said or did somethin' to you that made you hate her, I want to know! I can help you two settle this."
"You can't settle anything."
"Let me try! Please!"
With the staircase in view, I stop in place and finally turn back to John, my heart clenching at the sight of the desperation in his hazel eyes.
"Why don't you ask her about it?" I sneer. "You clearly like her company more."
John furrows his brows in confusion. "Who said that?"
I scowl. "I'm not an idiot. You look like a slobbering dog whenever she's around you! It's pathetic to see you degrade to that state!"
John pauses for a moment. He seems to connect a few dots, his eyes widening a little.
"Did I do somethin'? Is this 'bout me?"
"Aren't you a fucking genius?" I spit. "Of course it involves you!"
John winces, but he takes a step closer nonetheless. "If I did somethin' wrong, I'm sorry. I really am... But what did I do?"
My cheeks flush red with embarrassment. I glare down at the floor, desperate to end this conversation here.
"You wouldn't understand, John."
"Just give me a chance, (Y/N)! I want to understand!"
I let the silence linger as I collect my thoughts. Why the hell do I even bother? I'm tearing us apart with my own pettiness. I'm such a bitch!
My silence remains for too long, and John finds it appropriate to make another comment.
"As far as I'm concerned, Susannah's never done anythin' to you."
Now I have to respond.
"You want to know what she did to me?!" I hiss.
"Yes!"
"She's trying to take you away from me! That's it, okay?! It's fucking ridiculous, but it matters to me!"
I am silent. John is silent. Everything is silent.
What did I just do?
How did I drive this entire thing off a cliff?! I should have just told John to knock Susannah up for all I fucking care. And I don't care. Not a single fucking bit. I care so little! I'm completely fucking fine with everything!
Now what? What did I actually admit by saying that? Well, the bigger question is, how did John interpret that?
It can't be good. John's expression turns into one of mild surprise... and slight guilt. What does that mean?
God, I need to get out of here. I'm suffocating down here! I need to get back on deck, tell Lee and Alexander that I fucked up, then find a good place to cry like the little bitch that I am. Goddammit! I'm never going to get over this!
No... I need to get this right. I've said some things I can't take back, but I can't cop out like a pansy just yet. I must at least try to do what I came here for.
"(Y/N), I-"
I interrupt John before he can say another word.
"Susannah is a spy for the Brazilians... Specifically, General Rolando Alves. You know, the top Brazilian Air Force General? Well, she's been helping them for some time now. We have proof if you want to see it, although I doubt you will. Whether you decide to believe me or not is unimportant. I don't care. Hell, you probably think I'm spouting pure bullshit. But I'm not. Susannah is a spy, and she's been using you as her pawn. For your own sake, cut her off, John Laurens. I'm looking out for you. Guess I care about you. Funny, isn't it? I shouldn't, but I do."
John doesn't murmur a word. His hazel eyes stare into mine, solemn and blank. His whole world has been turned upsidedown. Flipped inside out. The question is, will he decide to find his way back on his feet, or will he try to live in this new direction?
I take a step back, scared that I might cry if I stay here a moment longer. "I'm sorry, John," I whisper. "I really am, but I can't hide-"
"John?"
The prissy voice echoes from behind me. It's the unmistakable and unbearable squeak from Susannah Hopkins. She found him. She found us.
I look over my shoulder, nearly gagging when I see her standing at the top of the staircase, looking down at us with her sea-colored eyes. I know I'm not imagining things when I see a flash of evil red in those eyes of hers; she doesn't like to see me alone with John, I suppose.
I take a deep breath. I can't outperform Susannah. Not with John. It's pointless. It's Susannah's move now. She can do what she wants with her pieces, and John is officially her piece.
"I've been looking for you!" Susannah smiles. "What are you doing here... with (Y/N)?"
John doesn't respond. Hell, he doesn't even seem to notice Susannah. His eyes are still glued on me like moths to a lamp. He's attracted to the light, but if he gets too close, it will kill him. So I should leave.
John reaches out one hand to touch mine, but I pull away and turn on my heel, making my way up the stairs. Susannah pulls a satisfied smirk. My stomach churns with anger towards her. Surprisingly, I'm not mad that she is winning this game. I'm just mad that she is manipulating John.
I can't bear to see John being tricked. I... I care.
I stare out onto the deck. In the short time I was below deck, it seems to have gotten more crowded. I see Alexander and Lee standing at the far side of the ship, looking out into the water. They have no idea what's going on.
"(Y/N), wait. Please!"
I hear John call out my name behind me. My spine stiffens and heart falters. What now?
Susannah's eyes flash red again. She has no idea that I know who she really is. I could destroy her now if I wanted to.
I take a few long steps, my legs nearly shaking. That's when John leaps in front of me, the urgency still in his eyes.
"(Y/N)... Give me a chance to-"
"John, what are you doing?"
Susannah's sharp voice cuts John's off like a sword. She approaches us slowly, the most sadistic glint in her irises. The sick smile on her face doesn't hide her aggravation very well.
John glances at Susannah, a hint of distrust simmering within him. Did he take what I said to heart.
"I'm just-"
"Don't talk to her," Susannah interrupts John once again. She leans to his ear, whispering something to him that I'm obviously not supposed to hear, but I hear it nonetheless. "Just look at her. You don't want to be involved with that."
My cheeks flush red with embarrassment. No, with hurt. What does she mean by that? It's quite obviously a directed attack, but...
"I..."
Susannah slips her hand into John's, a sly smirk growing on her face. "Let's go and get away from her. She isn't worth our time."
Her comment hits me in the gut, knocking the wind out of me. The worst possible thoughts flood my mind. It makes me question my worth.
Is Susannah cheating? Is she breaking the rules of our game? Can she be disqualified? No. This is all apart of the game. In fact, it seems like she's looking for a confrontation.
"But I just-"
"Let's go, John," Susannah repeats, cooing gently like a siren leading a sailor into the rocks. "I'm getting sick just looking at her."
I stare in silence as she begins to lead John away.
What do I do? Do I give him away?
I should drop it. If John believed what I told him, he'll leave her on his own. If he didn't believe me, then there's no changing his mind.
But I can't bear the sight of her hand entwined with his. A jealous fire bursts in me, engulfing all of my organs and boiling my blood.
I bite my tongue and build up my courage.
I can't let John walk away. Especially to Susannah Hopkins. If I do, I'll never forgive myself.
I need John Laurens.
"Hey, whore!"
Susannah and John freeze in place. My shout seems to have caught the attention of everyone on the ship. For a moment, all conversation between the sailors ceases. All eyes dart in my direction, watching for my next move.
Susannah and John turn to me. Susannah's eyes hold a smoldering flame within them. The mere sight of me enrages her.
"You're not talking to me, are you?" Susannah asks, her voice remaining calm and gentle. Of course. She can't go crazy now. Everyone is looking. She needs to keep up the persona she's created. The bubbly, gentle, kind girl.
"You responded to the name, didn't you?" I taunt. "Seems like you're self-aware that you're a whore."
The onlookers make an audible "ooo" sound.
It's a low blow admittedly, but it's enough to earn a reaction out of her and keep this confrontation going.
"You know, (Y/N), I've tried to tolerate you. You may be surprised to hear that you're quite intolerable. Maybe try to work on that. Okay, (Y/N)?"
Susannah's tone is demeaning as she says this. I'd let it get to me, but I'm too high at the moment to care about what she says.
"You can tolerate twenty dicks in your mouth, Susannah, but you can't tolerate me? It sounds like you're intimidated. If you want, I can teach you how to rise in the ranks with falling on two knees," I say.
Susannah's eye twitches. Surely she didn't expect this retaliation from me. It's annoying her.
Lee and Alexander, who quickly strode over when they saw Susannah and me duking it out, saunter up behind me.
"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Lee whispers.
I stick out a hand as if to tell them to say back. "Shut it, Lee. Let me handle her."
"(Y/N), what happened?" Alexander asks. I don't respond and wait for Susannah to take another swing.
I glance around briefly. Not only do we have the attention of all the sailors on this ship, but every sailor or soldier on the other ships or harbor as well. Everyone is watching us!
"You just can't handle it, can you?" Susannah coos, her lashes fluttering. "You can't handle being second best. You can't handle seeing your precious John fall for someone better. Get over it, (Y/N). You've been overlooked and outperformed. He chose me over you."
"Did he? That might change very soon, little miss cock sucker." I dare to take another step closer, the small gain in proximity allowing the anger in her eyes to be more visible. "Call me what you'd like, but I'm not stupid. I know who you are. I know what you're doing. I know who you work for. And I told John everything. You think he will look at you the same way ever again? He won't because you are a liar."
Everyone is a hypocrite. Including me.
"(Y/N), what are you-"
"Shut it, Lee."
John stands behind Susannah, motionless and silent. He's been stunned into muteness.
Susannah takes this in for a moment, then an evil grin flashes across her face for just a moment. The next second, it's an amused smile, girly and light. With everyone watching, she had a façade to keep up.
I essentially admitted that I know she's a spy. She clearly got the message. And yet, her response is somewhat dull.
"I always had a feeling you'd be a pain in the ass, (Y/N). I was hoping you'd stay out of my hair long enough, but I suppose a pest needs to pester."
"And a traitor needs to betray, correct?" I challenge.
She gives a toothy smirk, the fury evident in her voice as she drops to a low whisper.
"You stupid fucking bitch. You and your brother are dead."
Fuck with me, that's fine. Bring Alexander into it, prepare to die.
"Let's go then," I shout. I pull off a hair tie from my wrist and tie my hair into a messy ponytail in record speed. I hop on my toes, making a waving motion towards me. "Come at me, whore! Let's dance!"
The crowd gasps at the challenge. I, an AC troop, just invited Susannah Hopkins, a Vice Admiral, to a fight. This is beyond improper. It's probably borderline illegal. But I'm ready to throw some punches.
"(Y/N)!" Alexander whisper-shouts.
I pull out my pistol and toss it to Alexander, not needing the extra weight.
Susannah, as if barely remembering that we have an audience, returns to her act. "My, this is rather unfortunate that we've come to this, (Y/N). I wish we could have found some way to make amends... But if there's one thing I've been taught, it's to never back down from a fight."
In one swift motion, Susannah tosses off her sailor hat and brushes back her hair.
The entire world seems to bellow with "oooh's" and "ahh's". The crowd is loving this, aren't they? It's entertainment. A fight is about to ensue.
"Hell yes," Lee encourages from behind me. "Take that whore down, (Y/N)! Don't hesitate! Go for the throat!"
I nearly laugh. Go for the throat? That's not the first time that advice has been given to me... And the circumstances are quite similar in both situations.
Alexander comes up directly behind me, whispering into my ear while Susannah rolls up her sleeves.
"(Y/N), are you crazy?! In front of everyone?!"
"Don't worry, Alex. I'm not going down until someone breaks it up."
"That's not what I care about! What if you get hurt?!"
"It'll be worth it."
Alexander sighs, but he whispers one final thing to me. "(Y/N), if you two actually start fighting, I will get involved. Got it? I won't let Susannah lay a hand on you. No fucking way."
I give Alexander a glance, then take a step forward, approaching Susannah slowly. John still appears too shocked to even think.
I've been in a fistfight like this once before (if you don't include the time Lafayette tried to fucking kill me). That was during my Russian training. It was commonplace for fights to break out or even be planned. Alexander has been in plenty. I've been in one, and I won that.
I look at Susannah up and down briefly, assessing her stature. We're about the same in size, but how does our strength match up? I'm willing to bet that I am stronger than Susannah. I did go through the hell that is advanced training after all. Well, I guess we're about to find out.
The chant started from one of the sailors, and it quickly spread. Soon enough, almost every sailor and soldier on the ships or the harbor were chanting, in deep, bellowing tones, "Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!"
I'm blinded by hate and anger. By a desire to get revenge and cause pain. Some sick side of me wants to see blood. This is it. Someone will come out victorious out of this. Only one of us.
Susannah lifts her fists to a fighter's stance.
I briefly run my hand over my chest, feeling for the outline of my concealed combat knife underneath my uniform. My senses tingle at the familiar feeling.
Yes, I'm out for blood. I'm bringing a gun to a knife fight. No, a knife to a fistfight.
I smile and let my hands fall to my sides, feeling oddly relaxed and prepared.
"Ready, (Y/N) Hamilton?"
Susannah asks me the irrelevant question.
"Fight! Fight! Fight!"
I intend to use my knife.
"Ready, Susannah Hopkins."
I take in a deep breath of the warm air.
"Fight! Fight! Fight!"
And yes. I will go for the throat.
We make a mad dash for one another, but just as my hand subconsciously reaches for my knife, a hard force pushes me back.
I'm being held back... By Aaron Burr!
"What the hell is wrong with you two?!"
His back is pressed to my chest firmly, holding me back from moving any further.
The chanting ceases all at once. The only sound remaining is that of the water crashing into the sides of the boats.
Alexander, seeming relieved that someone stepped in before he had to, pulls me away from Burr and behind him. He's trying to shield me.
"Were you two really going to fight?!" Burr shouts. Susannah, who had frozen in place upon Burr's sudden interference, remains as silent as the grave.
When Burr can't get an answer out of Susannah or me, he looks around to the audience of soldiers and sailors.
"And shame on all of you for encouraging this! We are Allies! We should be acting as such! It's absolutely revolting!"
The silence remains.
Burr turns and glares at Lee. "What the hell, Charles? You watched the whole thing?!"
Lee shrugs innocently. "It was going to be a bloody good catfight."
"Are you kidding me? We're supposed to remain civil and you let this thing happen?!"
"As I said, Aaron," Lee waves off, "it was fine. I wanted to see that bloody spy pulverized."
"Charles, I-"
"Susannah? What happened?"
The voice of Admiral Hopkins interrupts Burr. I look over Alexander's shoulder, watching the man race over to his daughter.
Susannah, previously frozen, blinks quickly, then turns on the act.
"Daddy! I was so scared!"
She jumps into her dad's arms, appearing to be sobbing. John steps back. His first movement in a long time.
"Are you okay, my baby girl?" Hopkins asks Susannah, stroking her hair carefully. "Tell me what happened."
Susannah pauses for a minute, then she emerges from the embrace, crocodile tears streaming down her cheeks. She points a finger at me. My heart falters.
"(Y/N) tried to fight me!"
All is still for a moment. The world is staring at me. Expecting a reaction. I hold myself together
Hopkins gives Susannah a gentle kiss on the head, then he lets go of her and looks at me, having to peer around Alexander to even see my head.
My stomach drops when Hopkins begins stomping towards us.
Burr takes a visibly large step away, unwilling to get any more involved than necessary. I don't blame him. Hopkins seems to have grown ten times his normal size. He has been swelled up with rage like an angry bull. I am the red in his eyes.
I'll face him... Or at least, I want to. Just as I twitch, Alexander clasps each of his hands around my wrist, keeping me firmly locked behind him where he can protect me from the upcoming danger.
Alexander is putting himself between Hopkins and me.
Alexander remains steady, not flinching in the slightest when Hopkins stands a mere inch away from him. Then comes the shouts.
"Back away! Let me see that girl!" Hopkins bellows.
Alexander doesn't move. "Not a chance."
"Perhaps you didn't hear me! I said back away!'
Once again, Alexander is unintimidated. "Perhaps you didn't hear me. I said not a chance."
Hopkins seems to lose all control. "Listen here, you Russian-sounding bastard! That bitch tried to fight my daughter! I'm going to-"
"Hurt her? Go on. I dare you to lay a single finger on her. I fucking dare you."
Alexander... You're too bold for your own good.
Hopkins goes crazy.
"Who the hell do you think you are?! You're nobody! Back the fuck away right now and hand over the girl!"
"Hard of hearing?" Alexander taunts. "Then read my lips: you're not getting anywhere near her."
How did I get lucky enough to score Alexander in my life?
For a moment, it sounds like the crowd is going to go at it again. They will start their chants again. They will encourage this new fight: Hopkins versus Alexander.
But before anything can happen, someone new steps in: John Laurens.
He strides up from behind Hopkins, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Alexander and (Y/N) Hamilton," John says. "They're assigned under my unit."
His hazel eyes are empty.
Hopkins whips around to look at John. "Excuse you?"
"I don't go 'round shoutin' at your sailors, so don't go 'round shoutin' at my soldiers."
"But that girl tried to-"
"Fight Susannah," John interrupts Hopkins. "Yes, I know. I saw. But what I said holds true. You have no authority over my soldiers."
"But she was-"
"I'll deal with them as I see appropriate. But don't yell at my soldiers."
"But I-"
"Capeesh?"
I nearly laugh out loud. John Laurens put Hopkins in his spot alright! Lee appears to be barely able to contain himself. This is probably a better outcome than he could have hoped for.
Hopkins puffs up his chest, giving me one final glare. "Stay the hell away from my daughter."
I don't respond because I won't obey.
Hopkins turns on his heel and stomps back to Susannah, who had continued to cry her crocodile tears. Susannah and her father stride off the boat.
Susannah better watch her back.
Attention lingers on me for a moment more, then sailors and soldiers go back how they were before. There's a sick tension in the air. Whatever our little show did to the crowd, it wasn't good. The rivalry between the Navy and Army will only grow worse.
As for now, I have to deal with Alexander.
Keeping his hands clenched onto my wrists, he turns to face me. "Your lucky Burr jumped in before I could get involved!"
"You both are lucky I jumped in," Burr blurts out after having been previously silenced by Hopkins' presence. "Do you have any idea what may have happened should a fight ensue?!"
"It's irrelevant, mate," Lee says, seeming to come down from the high my situation gave him. He stoops his voice lower, leaning down to the smaller man. "Susannah is as dead as she can be. She's a bloody spy."
Burr nearly facepalms. "Not this again."
"It's different now, Aaron," Lee smiles. "We have solid proof! Evidence! That bloody slag will be outta here before we know it."
As Burr and Lee continue a back and forth, arguing about the validity and value of any evidence, Alexander continues to drill into me. We both slip into Russian.
"You could've been hurt, (Y/N)."
"I know!"
"Then why would you do it?!"
"Same reason you got into all those fights back when we were younger. Dignity! Pride!"
Alexader scowls. "I don't want you getting yourself injured over petty matters."
"You've gotten hurt a lot more for stupid shit, Alex!"
"Don't be like me! Be better than me!"
"You put yourself on a high pedestal, but the moment I do anything-"
"Last time you fought someone you won," Alexander interrupts. "That doesn't mean you'll always be so lucky."
"I am stronger than you think!"
"And you're more valuable than you think!" Alexander cries out. In his violet eyes, I can truly see his concern. I try to ignore it because it makes me feel guilty. But there's no denying its existence.
"Alexander, I'm not a-"
"I don't want you to get hurt, (Y/N)."
I can't think of anything else to say, so I say nothing. I can't bear to look into Alexander's violet eyes, so I gaze away.
Instead, I briefly look around for John. He had been in proximity when he stopped Hopkins from shooting Alexander down. But now, as I search around for the hazel-eyed man, he is nowhere to be found.
Where the hell did John Laurens go?
I... Did I fuck everything up between us?