(A/N): Hi! I go by Swanni, and this is my first official FanFiction! The idea came from just my own thoughts of "what if?" What if Burr never shot Hamilton? Eventually, it ended up morphing into this and I "wrote everything down far as I could see." (Oh, the puns.) Anyways, I'd love to hear your thoughts and any constructive criticism, but please no flames. Without further ado, enjoy!
He remembered a migraine pounding on his skull. Memories swarmed his brain like a movie being fast-forwarded to a point where they didn't make much sense. A tap on his shoulder, the closing of a tent flap, Theodosia and their daughter, a gunshot, a scream, then quiet. The cycle kept repeating and repeating and he started choking on his own air. His gasping quickened until his lungs felt like they were set on fire. The brightness increase in front of his eyes as darkness slowly crept around him before swallowing the 80 year old man whole.
Aaron Burr had died.
Voices. That was the first thing I heard.
"He doesn't deserve this." They were begging to someone.
"Another chance, please!"
"Even ME of all people would want this for him!"
"I still think he should rot in heck." Someone mumbled though it seemed like a joke.
"I should've been more persuasive than pushy, and that's my fault."
"Do whatever if he messes this up! Just one more chance!" I sensed a nod, then the presence of the voices faded.
I jerked up with a start. Memories rushed back, but they made sense this time. In the midst of my confusion, I noticed I was alone in my old bed. I swung my feet over the side and stood up but my mind was fuzzy, causing me to stumble a bit. As I made my way downstairs, my head began to clear. I realized I owned this house before ever meeting Theodosia. I saw pictures of my family hung in the living area. A family no longer around...
I shook those thoughts out of my head before coming to a sudden start. I felt my eyes widen as I realized... the stroke. I shouldn't still be alive. I rushed out the home, quietly thanking I had proper clothes on so I wouldn't have embarrassed myself . I stood on the welcome mat, staring at patriotism propaganda posters pasted to the lampposts down the street. I knew I was not in 1836. I ran back inside to a mirror, examining features I haven't had since I was 18. I raised a dark hand to my forehead as I stared at my reflection. I had gone about 60 years into the past. I attempted to take calming deep breaths. It had to have been a dream. There is no other explanation. However, as I looked into the reflection of my dark eyes, they appeared... wiser. As if I knew how to go from here, which was probably far from the truth.
I headed down the road towards the bar I was so familiar with to sort out my thoughts, having one hand in my pocket with a book in the other. I examined posters I saw hanging up. As I read them, I realized how to approach what was to come. On one hand, I could try to convince myself everything-the war, Theodosia, the duel-was all just a dream. On the other, I could've been another chance at life to fix what should've never had happened.
If I was given another chance, one thing was for sure. I was given a redo, and I wouldn't throw away my shot. The only thing standing to the side ever did for me was gaining Theodosia's love, and I'm even guaranteed she'd ever be my wife again. When Hamilton threw away his shot, he was killed. At that solemn thought, I decided to keep my eyes focused on the pavement in an attempt to chase those memories out of my head.
After what felt like an eternity, I made it to the bar and sat at a table in the corner opening up the first volume to the series "The Life and Opinions of Tristian Shandy, Gentleman" by Laurence Sterne. I barely made it to the bottom of the second page when I was approached by someone. I looked up when they poked my shoulder with a smile. I tried not to pale when I saw none other than Alexander Hamilton. A.k.a, my friend whom I shot.
"Pardon me, are you Aaron Burr, sir?" the young Hamilton asked with such curiosity and innocence I hadn't seen for so long. For a moment, I hesitated. This man was killed because of my hate for him. How could I ever have let that happen.
Once I realized I hadn't responded, I turned my attention back to the immigrant. "
"Correct. Do I have the pleasure of knowing who would be asking?" I raked my mind for how this conversation went way back when. Whether the first time I met him was a real or not, I decided in that second I wasn't willing to go into the direction it initially took me. I would not shoot the man in front of me.
"Oh sure, sir. I'm Alexander Hamilton I'm at your service, sir. I have been looking for you."
"I'm getting nervous," I responded jokingly. In all honesty, all the uncertainty I had began to disappear and I felt more at ease with the familiarity.
"Sir! I heard your name at Princeton, I was seeking an accelerated course of study when I got sort of out of sorts with a buddy of yours. I may have punched him. "It's a blur, sir. He handles the financials..?" He looked at me for a reaction after his ranting. I watched, humored as he quietly tried to catch his breath.
"...you punched the bursar?" I had a slightly shocked expression as memories came flooding back.
"Yes!" I allowed myself to chuckle at the energy I hadn't seen for so long. Joy spread on his face at my amusement. "I wanted to do what you did, graduate in two then join the revolution! He looked at me like I was stupid, I'm not stupid." I laughed slightly at the deadpan face accompanied by that sentence. "So how'd you do it? How'd you graduate so fast?" His eyes were basically twinkling at this point, I couldn't believe this was the same guy who published the Reynolds Pamphlet... As I remembered he was awaiting a response, I quickly thought up an answer. "It was my parents dying wish before they passed." It had come out more solemn than I had wished. Alexander paused at that, looking thoughtful before his nonstop face took over again.
"You're an orphan! Of course! I'm an orphan! God I wish there was a war then we could prove that we're worth more than anyone bargained for!" I looked at him, impressed. I forgot how fast he could change a person's mood with words.
"Can I buy you a drink?"
"That would be nice." We're getting somewhere, Aaron, I told myself. We could be friends like we once were after today. Plus, being on the good side of someone who took down anyone he pleased was probably a smart move.
"While were talking, let me offer you some free advice." He looked at me expectantly, but also curious to know what I would say. I knew exactly what to change this time around. Even if it didn't work, at least it could never be as bad as the result of waiting for it.
"Smile more."
"Heh."
"Don't be afraid to fight for what you're for."
"That's not too serious."
"But if you wanna get ahead."
"Yes?"
"Fools who keep their mouths shut are better off dead." Suddenly, the trio that despised me so much barged in.
"What time is it?!"
"Showtime!"
"They know what I meant."
"Showtime, showtime, what!" We watched the introductions they go through every Friday night, catching Alexander's interest. However, it wasn't long until they spotted me.
"Well, if it ain't the prodigy of Princeton College!"
"Aaron Burr."
"Give us a verse, drop some knowledge!" I hesitated before making the decision to stand, the three staring at me in shock. I honestly felt a little nervous how they'd react and I started doubting everything in that split moment, but attempted to push those doubts out of my head.
"Tell everyone we're all taking a stand. Let's show the British which government is unfit and watch where we land. At the rate of patriotism growing in the air, we'll demonstrate with force the fact that these stupid taxes are unfair." I tried to smile but it came out more sheepish than intended. Oh well. My insecurity faded a bit when Mulligan made a "woo!" sound. Laurens made his way over and playfully elbowed me.
"And the revolution's imminent, what do the colonies stall for?"
"Loyalists stand for nothing, what will they fall for?" Alexander joined in, excitement clearly coursing through his veins.
I watched as they circled around him curiously, though it would be uncomfortable if I was ever in that spot.
"Oo, who are you?"
"Who are you?"
"Who are you?"
"Oo, who this kid, what's he gonna do?"
Alex shot me a nervous, pleading expression. I could only gesture to start talking. Suddenly, something went off in his brain as he smirked and determination shined in his eyes.
That can't be good.