Alexander Hamilton sits in the front parlor of the house of one John Wallace, which currently serves as his Excellency's winter headquarters. The parlor has been turned into an office, just as many of the other rooms of the house, with its fine chairs moved aside and wooden chairs from the dining room arranged around tables. Hamilton tries to write orders from General Washington in regards to the assurance of their winter camp here in Middlebrook. However, he finds his mind wandering unbidden.

The recent court martial of General Charles Lee has left himself, as well as many others in the army, on edge. Hamilton believes General Lee deserved his sentence but the trial itself and the near disastrous battle which brought it about draw questions upon the state of the army and the war itself. If confidence cannot be placed in their generals then how should the war progress to a happy outcome?

It is not simply the trial, however, which distracts Hamilton but a certain aide-de-camp's long absence.

"Hamilton?"

Hamilton looks up to see Tench Tilghman in the doorway. He smiles. "Tilghman."

"Laurens has just arrived."

Hamilton stands up instantly, his chair sliding precariously over the wood floor. "Where?"

"He spoke to the General and then ascended stairs to lay down his things."

Hamilton rushes past Tilghman in the door, "Thank you, Tench."

Hamilton crosses the hall to the stairs on the opposite side, turning up and onto the landing. Hamilton checks in the open doors of various bedrooms until he spies a blue coat with a hat under its arm. "Laurens?"

The man turns and it is indeed Laurens. He smiles wide at the sight of Hamilton. "Hamilton."

Hamilton glances down the hall to see no other aide about then steps into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

He moves in close and kisses Laurens hard. He feels Laurens smile into the kiss, pressing closer, and all the tension and unease in Hamilton seems to float away.

"My dear John, it has been too many months," Hamilton finally says quietly. He takes Laurens' hat from him and places it on the dressing table so he may slide his arms around Laurens' waist. "I have heard of all your struggles in Connecticut and recently in Philadelphia."

Laurens nods, his hands loose on Hamilton's neck. "I feel I have found more to be angered over in these past four months than the whole war combined." Laurens sighs, rests his forehead against Hamilton's. "Count d'Estaing and his threats especially. As though he would truly return to France over so minor a slight."

Hamilton chuckles, inhales deeply – the smell of dirt from the road, and Laurens, a primal smell he remembers well and is always drawn to. "And yet you persuaded him to remain true to our cause."

"To defend your west indies." Laurens nuzzles his nose in Hamilton's cheek and lets out a sigh.

Hamilton kisses him lightly and pulls one hand up to trace Laurens' jaw. "I do hope you may remain here now as long as you have been absent."

Suddenly Laurens pulls back and stares intently at Hamilton. "Hamilton, you received my letter from some days past, of the fifth, of General Lee and his publication?"

Hamilton presses his lips together. "I did."

"Then what is your opinion?"

Hamilton sighs. "I shall not answer Lee myself if that is your hope."

Laurens' lets out a loud scoff. "Hamilton! You are the man with words so able at his fingertips. If anyone is to counter Lee's slander on our dear General –"

"General Washington should surely not wish me to do so!"

Laurens shakes his head, pacing away toward the window.

"The General feels the matter settled," Hamilton continues. "The court martial decided General Lee's fate and only few rally to his side. The many know his true character and his actions."

"But his defamation of General Washington cannot go unanswered!" Laurens insists.

Hamilton steps closer again and touches Laurens' arm. "General Lee no longer has a command; he is suspended a year hence. Can we not be satisfied –"

"Are you?" Laurens snaps, pulling away. "Are you satisfied that he may walk away with such offenses as he committed by his obvious cowardice and incompetence at Monmouth? By the way he has spoken of Washington?" Laurens huffs again without letting Hamilton reply, "And Washington should simply let him publish his 'Vindication' without a reply?"

"It is his name, he may defend it if he will, Laurens," Hamilton placates. "I like it none more than you but what should we do? If I were to print in reply it would distract from what we must turn our attention to."

"The war?" Laurens says with some derision.

Hamilton chuckles and touches Laurens arms again, rubbing in a soothing way. "It is our main employ now, Laurens, if you had but noticed."

Lauren shoots him a glare but some of the vehemence has left him. "I cannot leave this unanswered with all the General has done for us, for this country." He gives Hamilton an almost pleading look. "Not a man like Lee. I have heard of his words in private on our General, far worse that what he even publishes."

Hamilton worries his lip, crossing his arms. He recalls the fire Laurens had after the battle, both of them receiving injuries, Laurens' more egregious, and the near loss of much of their force had the General and Lafayette not made a stand in the face of Lee's confused retreat.

"If you should wish to write something in response I will gladly read it but I caution you –"

"I do not mean to write something, Hamilton."

Hamilton stares at Laurens for a long moment. "You do not say what I believe you mean?"

Laurens pauses then says firmly, "I have already called him out."

Hamilton takes a large step backward. "You have done what?"

"I wrote the letter from my stop last evening. It is sent. It is done."

"You asked for my counsel in your letter and then you act without hearing it!"

"I imagined what your counsel might be. Even if you should you have decided to write a response my actions would not be different."

Hamilton holds a hand to his head, shakes it once, shutting his eyes. "You cannot mean this."

"It is done, Hamilton, I cannot reclaim the letter now."

Hamilton thinks bizarrely about attempting to trace the post and seize the letter before it reaches Lee. "You mean to duel in Washington's name."

"For his name, Hamilton!" Hamilton opens his eyes to Laurens looking back at him imploringly. "You would do the same."

"Clearly I have not."

"You care for his Excellency as much as I; you testified against Lee as did I. You know all his behaviors and all his words and what sort of honor he thinks to have."

"But why should it be you?" Hamilton snaps. He has the irrational desire to shake Laurens.

"Why not me?"

Hamilton sighs and frowns, crossing his arms once more. "Laurens, do not toy with me! You know I simply..." Hamilton cuts himself off and shakes his head again. He thinks of Monmouth, riding between the Generals, asking Lee repeatedly his intentions and reporting back to Washington the unexplainable retreat. "I do not say Lee does not deserve what you suggest."

Laurens' lips quirk up. "Yes?"

Hamilton's voice drops. "I only say that I worry for your life."

"I have not been killed yet, Hamilton, and Lee will not be the one to succeed."

"You cannot be so glib."

"I am not. I am a skilled shot."

Hamilton stares at Laurens. He purses his lips and drums his hands once on his arm. "And is that your intent, Laurens? A duel and war are far separate; do you deem murder as this in your character?"

Laurens deflates somewhat, letting out an audible breath. "Hamilton, how could you say such of me?"

"But that is a duel, Laurens; the law sees such matters of honor that should end in death as murder."

"You are trying to dissuade me from my course but my intentions are sent, you cannot turn me back."

"Yes, I can!" Hamilton insists, gripping Laurens' hands suddenly. "We have not seen one another for months, you sent on your missions north and me unable to follow and now you return... you return ready to shoot Lee or be shot yourself!"

Laurens rubs his thumbs over the back of Hamilton's hands for a moment, saying nothing.

Hamilton stares at him. If his reason cannot alter Laurens' mind then perhaps his passion should instead. "John, I would not lose you so soon, can you not understand this?"

Laurens blows out a breath, looking down at their hands. "You will not lose me."

"I will not lose you if you should not duel Lee."

"Hamilton… what would you have me do? Would you discount my honor? General Lee's honor?"

"He may protect his own honor!"

"Hamilton." Laurens looks up into Hamilton's eyes again. "Please, understand, such words and actions require a response. I would give that response. I shall behave in all manner honorable in this duel, would you believe this?"

Hamilton presses his lips together tightly and squeezes Laurens' hands. "Of course I believe you honorable, Laurens. We have been through enough now that I believe I know you well as this."

Laurens nods. "And you know my mind once it is made?"

Hamilton shakes his head, trying to penetrate his gaze past Laurens' bullheadedness. "And you know my ability to convince one with my words alone."

Laurens smiles slyly. "And other ways."

Hamilton shakes his head, refuses to be distracted by Laurens' flirtation. "John... if you are... if you truly intend..."

A sudden knock on the door causes the pair to drop each other's hands. Laurens walks around Hamilton and opens the door.

"Laurens? Ah, and Hamilton." Hamilton turns and sees James McHenry in the doorway. "You voices carry down the hall and wake poor Meade from his much deserved rest after riding all night from Philadelphia."

"My apologies," Laurens says tersely. "We had best descend stairs in any case."

"And continue such noises?"

Hamilton sighs. "He is right, Laurens, we had better finish our discussion first."

"I think it is quite finished." Laurens smiles, an expression Hamilton knows attempts to disguise some guilt he feels. "There is naught more that might be changed or gained from such discourse."

Hamilton pinches his lips and glares at Laurens. He wants to shout again, to sit Laurens down and inform him of all the ways a duel may amount to more than a defense of honor, how much harm a bullet may cause, how if a bullet should pierce Laurens, it would pierce Hamilton's own heart.

"Laurens..."

"It is done," Laurens says in a hush. "I must now simply wait for a reply."

"Or write in haste to recall your first entreat."

"And look myself a coward?"

"I do not say –"

"Argue or not," McHenry interrupts with a wave of his hand, "over whatever matter this may be but consign your arguments to such that the whole house might not share in them." He fixes them both with a look in turn. "And spare poor Meade."

It is universally difficult for any to wish harm on Richard Kidder Meade.

Laurens nods once at McHenry then steps out into the hall with him. He looks back at Hamilton. "Might we return to work? I am certain there is that in which I can assist."

Hamilton stares at Laurens for a long moment. He wonders if he could pull Laurens from the house, climb them both on a horse and ride until Hamilton need not worry over Laurens' temper, his gun or his life.

"There is and we shall." He nods at McHenry. "Our apologies."

"Accepted." McHenry replies with raised eyebrows then turns away down the hall, Laurens following him.

Laurens manages to distract and avoid Hamilton's attempts to bring up the topic of his possible duel with Lee for the next two days. Laurens offers to assist Meade with supply lists taking him out into the main encampment. He keeps Tilghman with them for long discussions from his mission in New England about the battles in Newport and the behavior of the French troops.

"You would imagine they thought themselves at a dance and not a war!"

Hamilton tries to corner Laurens, tell him that honor can be sated in many ways, that it is not his own honor which need protecting, that General Washington is thought well enough that Lee can do no more damage after his court martial ended so. Yet Laurens cuts off Hamilton's words with correspondence to answer, orders to copy, meetings with Washington himself.

If Hamilton should catch him alone, follow him to his room then Laurens presses kisses to his lips and whispers, "Trust me."

Hamilton does not know how to properly explain to Laurens how he could not bear to lose someone so dear when he has lost so many before Laurens, how Laurens is not a negotiable loss now, how Lee does not deserve the chance to take him from Hamilton.

Then Laurens says to him, the candles burned low and Robert Hanson Harrison retired for the night leaving them alone in their parlor office, "Alexander, I have had a response."

Hamilton looks up from his ledger on munitions. He grips his quill tight. "And?"

"And he has accepted."

Hamilton swallows once. "Ah."

"He names Major Evan Edwards as his second." Hamilton now notices that Laurens holds what must be the letter in his hands. He folds it closed and opens it again, then folds it closed once more. "Hamilton, would you be my second?"

Hamilton puts down his quill then stands up. He walks around the table to stand beside Laurens' chair. He takes the letter from Laurens' hand. He reads it over; Major Edwards had been aide-de-camp to Lee the year past. Lee asks the seconds to determine a time and place of the meeting.

"Alexander?"

Hamilton puts the letter back on the table.

"I had hoped he would refused," Hamilton says quietly, looking at the stack of sealed letters in the middle of the table, the candles burned to not much more than inch of wax.

"He has accepted."

"And there is no need for your seconds to negotiate any cease of this between you?"

"If I should have a second." Hamilton finally looks down at Laurens where he sits as Laurens takes his hand.

In the dim, Laurens' eyes reflect the candle light – fire in his soul.

Hamilton smiles in a thin line. "I should wish no other by your side than myself."

Laurens' face breaks into a relieved smile. "Nor I."

Laurens stands up, his hand still holding Hamilton's. He smiles and Hamilton knows he wishes he could kiss him. Hamilton wishes he could too.

"I am most grateful." Laurens picks up the letter and holds it up for Hamilton.

Hamilton takes the letter with his free hand and sighs. "You must understand that I would... I would stand with you against anything, Laurens. I would protect you as much as I am able."

"I know, I know that."

"I know your anger toward Lee; we all feel it but..." Hamilton shakes his head and lets go of Laurens' hand. "Though I may fear for you, I respect your honor."

Laurens smiles at him. "Thank you."

Hamilton thinks if he had done something different in the steps to now, if he had spoken differently, if he had befriended another aide more – if he had not seen Laurens' eyes, his smile, his drive, his passion; if he had not felt Laurens' hand on his own, Laurens' kiss, Laurens' body close to his own. If he had taken one step in another direction would he feel this clenching on his heart so? Was there a way to escape this intimacy, despite all his plans to keep the world at a distance from his inner sphere, or was Laurens an inevitable vulnerability? Was Laurens always to be a ribbon wrapped tightly around his heart, surely to cause harm if it should be ripped away?

The plans for the duel proceed as follows.

Hamilton writes immediately to Major Edwards requesting arrangements for the meeting of the two men, with a cursatory request at any possibly resolution. Evans answers back that after the General's refusal of Baron von Steuben's challenge he cannot possibly find reason enough to refuse Lieutenant Colonel Laurens' challenge as well. (Hamilton feels he should perhaps have a conversation with the Baron when time permits).

Before they can exchange more correspondence about the time and place of the duel, General Washington is summoned to Congress in Philadelphia.

"As though providence should wish the duel to commence with ease," Laurens quips. "Lee himself attempting to plead his cause in Philadelphia."

"Providence would not wish you harm or it is no heaven," Hamilton counters.

As they are to arrive in Philadelphia on the 22nd, Edwards writes to suggest the afternoon of the 23rd. Hamilton has no recourse to push the duel off further. He affirms.

"You may yet call a halt to this," Hamilton says as he walks with Laurens down Point no point road in the woods just outside Philadelphia.

"Ah yes."

"I mean what I say. We seconds could find a resolution. Should Lee apologize..."

"He will not."

"Or should you declare his simply meeting you satisfaction enough."

Laurens scoffs. "You call that a satisfaction?" Laurens shakes his head. "I would see him down the barrel of my pistol for his words, for his defamation of the one man who carries us forward despite all the obstacles!"

"Laurens, please, what benefit could this have?"

"You speak as though you do not believe my cause just," Laurens huffs, his voice terse, "my reasons right."

"I know and understand all the right behind your actions but I do not wish for your actions to be needed."

"You cannot change Lee's choices, Hamilton. He has made the bed he lies in."

Hamilton clenches his teeth, watching the edge of the road for the appointed mile marker, hoping never to see it. Could they fade into the woods, no disreputable generals to vengeance or gallant commanders to avenge?

"Would you not rather stay with me a moment?" Hamilton says, stopping on the road.

Laurens turns and looks at him with a frown. "Hamilton?"

"Do you recall what I said to you once, how I would only wish you safe, how you wished the same for me?"

Laurens sighs and looks down at the dirt road, no frost now but still just as cold.

"Do you remember... it was long past now, when you thought me dead? Be it but a short time, you felt..."

"I recall."

"Then recall all this now, now it is me, now it is I who wish not to feel as you felt, not to fear that even for a moment." Hamilton waves his arms in the air once weakly, helplessly. "I said I would keep you safe!"

Laurens look up at him again. "You told me the same once that we are in a war and safety is not our luxury to have."

Hamilton sighs heavily, hands on his hips. He shakes his head. "This is a folly."

"This is right. This is honor. This is for our General. This is an answer being made, Hamilton." Laurens steps closer into Hamilton's personal space. "Do you hear me? You shall not lose me because I am in the right of this duel and I believe I will be the victor."

"You cannot know that."

Laurens shakes his head and smiles. "Trust me."

"I do."

"Then trust me now and stand by the side." Hamilton bites the edge of his lip. Laurens touches his cheek for a brief moment. "I understand your unease but I... I must proceed."

"You understand how much I care for you, Laurens. You understand what you do to me now?"

"I understand because I care as deeply for you but you cannot keep me on this road, in this wood forever."

Hamilton cracks a smile. "I could try."

"I would allow you if it should make you smile once more." Hamilton smiles despite himself and Laurens smiles back. "Now, let us proceed or I shall already diminish my position by being late to the duel I began."

"As you wish."

Hamilton and Laurens continue down the road in silence, their hands brushing as they walk. It is not long before Hamilton spies the stone mile marker number four and, standing near it, two men waiting. Beside him, he feels Laurens straighten up. When they are closer, they stop several yards away. Hamilton glances at Laurens once, his face full of absolute resolve. Hamilton sucks in a breath then steps forward, Edward moving toward him as well, a long box under his arm.

"Lieutenant Colonel," Edwards says.

"Major."

Edwards shifts the box around and opens it on his arm. "Pistols, as we discussed."

Inside the box are two pairs of pistols, fitted into the bed of the box.

"And there can be no reconciliation from this point?" Hamilton asks. "Should the General wish to apologize for his words?"

Edwards' lips pinch. "He feels he owes no apology to Lieutenant Colonel Laurens, as any man has a right to speak of a military gentleman as he would."

Hamilton does not need to ask Laurens if he should wish to feel the matter resolved simply by both their presences. "Then we shall commence."

Hamilton picks the two pistols on the right and pulls them from the box. Edwards nods then steps back toward Lee who waits several paces away, his cape turned off over one shoulder. Hamilton walks back over to Laurens. Laurens watches him and nods as Hamilton approaches. Laurens pulls off his cape, followed by his coat and hat. Hamilton hands Lauren one pistol then takes Laurens' coat and cape. He hands the other pistol to Laurens then takes his hat. The one pistol is already prepared with shot, likely by Edwards while they waited.

"How should you wish to proceed?" Edwards asks, his head switching between Lee and Laurens.

"I say we should advance and fire when we feel appropriate," Lee snaps as he drapes his coat over Edwards' arm.

Laurens' lips turn up in an almost sneer. "I consent."

Hamilton frowns. He would rather a more distant draw, to pace off then fire but it is not without foundation to do the opposite. Certainly they should stop some paces away from each other still. Yet it also makes the shots easier the closer they are.

"Laurens," Hamilton says in a hush as the two men take their positions. He sees Laurens tilt his head in attention though he does not take his eyes off Lee. "I trust you."

Laurens smiles just enough for Hamilton to see then Hamilton steps back from Laurens.

Edwards shouts, "The duel shall begin," he raises his arm then drops it, "now."

Laurens and Lee stride toward each other, quick long steps, only about four each before they stop, arms up. Hamilton feels his heart slam against his ribs at the sound of their sudden gunshots almost at the exact same second.

Hamilton watches the smoke lift around Laurens' head, his arm falling with his shot fired, a tense expression his face. He does not stumble, he does not fall, he makes no expression of pain. He is not shot and Hamilton grins like the war is won.

Laurens drops his first pistol to prepare his second when Lee makes a pained noise. "I am hit."

Laurens stills, watching how Lee holds a hand against his side. Then Laurens steps forward toward Lee.

Edwards and Hamilton both move toward Lee as well, his injury looking as though it could possibly be grievous. Hamilton has a moment of panic – the desire to flee with Laurens from the repercussions. Then Lee pulls his hand back from his wound, only a small amount of blood on his palm, as Edwards reaches him.

Lee shakes his head. "It is not mortal, only a graze."

The other three men all relax, Laurens stopping still several paces away, Hamilton beside him.

"I propose a second shot!" Lee says, staring at Laurens now.

"No," Edwards and Hamilton retort at once.

"You have had your shot," Hamilton demands. "The affair is settled."

"You have both met and behaved honorably," Edwards adds. "There need not be more."

"This affair may end here," Hamilton caps off gesturing between the two combatants."

"No," Lee says firmly. "No, we should fire again."

"Fine," Laurens says hotly. "I accept."

Hamilton turns his head sharply to Laurens but Laurens does not look at him.

"Sir," Hamilton says turning to Lee instead. "This was a matter of honor, the honor of General Washington and your words and Laurens' belief in the offense you laid. It need not move into such an obviously personal motive."

"I do not declare it personal," Lee says tersely. "I have not offended the Colonel's person in any manner."

"You have spoken grossly in public and private of a man who deserves no such reproach and certainly not from a man such as yourself whose actions are far below his!" Laurens counters.

"And you would say this not a personal affront?" Lee scoffs. "I say a second shot must be had!"

"I agree!" Laurens snaps back.

Hamilton grips Laurens arm but Laurens shrugs him off, taking the powder from Edwards and adding a bullet to his pistol.

"Laurens..." Hamilton hisses.

Laurens shoots him a quick look full of that intensity Hamilton knows, that determination. Then he stares back at Lee.

"General Lee," Edwards suddenly says. "Much has passed these months and many views are had. Yet we must look to this incident alone. You have both behaved honorably in this matter here, now. Sir, the matter may end thusly, upon my honor. I trust Colonel Laurens' second would agree, would you not, Colonel Hamilton?"

"I would."

"You need not press it to a point where the results may be less so," Edwards adds.

Lee turns his head toward Edwards who stares back at him. Hamilton watches them, wants to grip Laurens' hand. His brain spins madly that he should take the pistol from Laurens and shoot Lee himself if that should save Laurens.

Then Lee's shoulders sag somewhat. He nods at Edwards. "I am sensible of your view and trust your judgement." His eyes turn back to Laurens. "If the seconds agree, I may resolve here."

Laurens' lips press together tightly. Hamilton sees his fingers flex around the pistol in his hand. Hamilton reaches out and touches Laurens' other forearm, near his wrist.

Laurens nods. "I consent, if the seconds agree."

Hamilton quickly moves toward Edwards who meets him halfway.

"It should stand here," Hamilton says quickly.

"I agree," Edwards replies. "Both their honors should be satisfied by this."

"The General need not persist, it smacks of desire for a hit of his own that is perhaps more damaging," Hamilton says with masked venom.

"It is your man that has wounded him," Edwards hisses.

They glare at one another for a moment before Hamilton calms himself. He need not aggravate the duel more by disagreeing with Edwards. "You are right, my apologies. If you are satisfied then I agree the same. No second shot."

Edwards nods once. "No second shot."

The two of them turn around toward their charges, "We have agreed that the affair shall stand as is," Hamilton says to Laurens.

Laurens nods once, glancing at the other pair. Lee nods back.

"I consent," Laurens says again.

Hamilton smiles. "Good. We are done."

Hamilton takes the pistol in Laurens' hand and picks up the other. He walks back to Edwards, returning both. Edwards packs away the pistols then helps Lee begin walking back toward Philadelphia. As they pass Laurens and Hamilton, Lee gives Laurens what appears to be an appraising nod. Hamilton and Laurens frown together as their opposing pair walk on down the road.

"I fear he may have found new respect for me," Laurens says with a tone of wonder.

"I fear you are right."

Hamilton waits until Lee and Edwards have disappeared from sight down the road into the trees, then he grips Laurens tightly by the hand. He blows out a breath, not realizing how tense he held himself in only these five minutes. Laurens squeezes his hand once. Hamilton shakes his head and feels some amount of embarrassment at his fuss and fear for Laurens over the duel of honor. It ended well and Laurens could certainly call himself the victor if he chose.

"Hamilton?"

"Yes?"

"We should return to Philadelphia."

"Yes."

"The General should be set up now and we can find his lodging."

"Yes."

"Hamilton."

"Yes?"

"Look at me."

Hamilton turns his head up to Laurens, their hands still together. Laurens smiles at him and nods reassuringly. "It is finished. I am satisfied."

Hamilton nods back after a moment, "Good."

"Alexander... thank you for standing with me."

Hamilton finally smiles and squeezes Laurens' hand back. "Always."

Back in Philadelphia, they stop at the State House to inquire as to General's Washington's whereabouts and the lodging of his aides. Hamilton waits in the hall as Laurens speaks with the Congress secretary. Hamilton paces languidly near the front doors. He looks up at the turning stairs and the half balcony. A squarish chandelier hangs from the high ceiling above him. The make is simple, some Quaker influence to be sure. Then he hears the door to the office open and Laurens emerges with his hat under his arm. His expression appears drawn.

Hamilton frowns. "Laurens? Is something amiss?"

Laurens stares at him. "Not as such…"

Hamilton and Laurens leave the State House and cross Chestnut Street, walk only a few houses down, to the house of Henry Laurens, the current president of Congress and John Laurens' father.

"I did not expect this," Laurens mutters as they near the front door.

"It was Congress that requested the General's presence," Hamilton says.

Laurens make a noise like 'ha' but somehow strangled. "Yes, but to lodge with my father? There is many a house in the city which would open for him."

"But the president of Congress would make much sense, you cannot deny."

"Hamilton," Laurens says curtly then shuts his mouth without any more elaboration.

Laurens sighs and knocks as they now stand in front of the townhouse door. The door opens only a few seconds later to a black man of average height wearing a black coat.

He smiles slightly and nods. "Master John, your father has been expecting you."

Laurens frowns. "Has he, James? Is General Washington in house as well?"

"And several of your fellow aide–de–camp." James raises his eyebrows in either displeasure or amusement, Hamilton cannot be sure.

Laurens frowns slightly as they walk into the house. "I see." He glances at Hamilton. "Alexander Hamilton, this is James; James, Hamilton." Then Laurens hurries down the hall, dropping his hat on a table under a mirror against the wall.

Hamilton opens his mouth in surprise then shuts it again with a nod at James. He pulls off his own hat awkwardly and follows after Laurens. Hamilton catches up to Laurens as he stops in the doorway of what appears to be a back study. Laurens knocks once on the wood of the doorframe. Hamilton hears a voice say, 'Come.' Laurens walks in and Hamilton follows.

In the study, General Washington speaks with Meade in a corner, some papers in Meade's hand. At a desk near the wall, however, sits who Hamilton assumes must be Henry Laurens. He stands as they enter, not quite as tall as Laurens, powdered hair, a large nose, and some puff of enough wealth to keep him so to his cheeks and middle. He nods once and shakes Laurens' hand.

"John," he says, "we had thought to see you with General Washington's party last evening."

Laurens clears his throat. "We stayed behind with the rest of the General's staff in New Jersey to finish some affairs before following the General here." Laurens swallows, glances quickly at Hamilton then takes a step to the side. He hold out his hand to indicate Hamilton. "Father, might I present my fellow aide–de–camp, Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Hamilton."

Hamilton steps forward, bowing once quickly. "Sir, a pleasure."

He wonders if he should shake the man's hand, if he should thank him for opening his house to them but perhaps that is not his place. He realizes he has no idea what his man may have heard of him outside of being one of General Washington's aides. Perhaps that is enough? There is much he would prefer the man not know at all.

Henry Laurens holds out his hand which Hamilton shakes once quickly. "Sir."

H. Laurens smiles but the expression speaks more of rank than friendliness. "You are welcome."

"Ah, Laurens the junior!"

Meade walks over and grips Laurens' hand. "We had hoped for you sooner."

"Yet you find me now, Kidder." Laurens shakes Meade's hand, his smile tight. "And I am not a junior."

Meade chuckles once. "Of course not; now, we require you."

Laurens looks up at General Washington as he walks over to the group. "As you are familiar with your father's wishes and tastes we would ask your assistance with some matters of house so we can leave President Laurens to more important affairs of Congress."

Laurens glances at his father quickly then to Hamilton. His expression is more guarded than Hamilton thinks he may have ever seen it.

"Of course, your Excellency."

"And, sir," Meade says to Henry Laurens, "I am sure you might enjoy a conversation with Hamilton before you return to your own work, should you wish. He impresses all with his words and wit!"

"Yes," Laurens' father says, "stay a moment, Lieutenant Colonel."

Hamilton sees Laurens opens his mouth but closes it again with a look at Hamilton. Hamilton thinks it is possible he should be concerned. Then before he can remark on Meade's kind words, the trio leave the room and Hamilton remains alone with Laurens' father.

Hamilton turns back to Henry Laurens who watches him from beside his desk. H. Laurens purses his lips for a moment, the expression reminds Hamilton of John, then he turns back around his desk. "I understand you and my son have formed a close bond during your duties under General Washington."

Hamilton nods – thinks of kisses, hands touching under tables, candle light – and clears his throat. "Yes, sir. Your son is an excellent soldier and a dutiful member of his Excellency's staff."

"So I have heard." H. Laurens sits down in his desk chair. "The General speaks well of him and yourself."

Hamilton forces himself to keep the urge to grin at bay. "I am proud to serve the cause and the General."

H. Laurens makes an 'hmm' noise in the exact same way John does when he suspects more to what Hamilton's says. Hamilton pulls his hands behind his back and clasps them together self-consciously.

"And Jack, he is..." H. Laurens shifts one sheet of paper on his desk for a moment, still staring at Hamilton. "I trust he is acting in all manner appropriate to the position?"

Hamilton frowns and worries wildly that news of John's duel could have preceded them here. "He is every bit the gentleman and dutiful aide–de–camp." Hamilton tilts his head and pushes his luck. "If you have heard some specific rebuke I would be surprised, sir."

"My son is headstrong," H. Laurens says bluntly. "He has ideas which are not always in line with what is best or appropriate to the proper function of society. He forgets change of what he would seek does not occur with the speed of a pen stroke. I imagine he has spoken to you of his black regiment plan?"

Hamilton lets out a cautious breath. "He has."

"And?"

"And, sir?"

"Do you support his aim?"

Hamilton pulls himself up taller because, while this may be John's father, the president of the Congress and a man of importance, Hamilton will not compromise his own beliefs. "I think it a worthy cause, one that could much benefit our troops and the men themselves. Should it be put into action we could gain thousands more troops, those slaves in bondage could earn their freedom and we could avoid any risk of those men falling in with the British who offer similar incentives."

H. Laurens stares at Hamilton for a long moment. "Jack wrote you were a man of strong beliefs, not want to censor yourself."

Hamilton bites the inside of his cheek and wishes very much to ask to read the letter John wrote to his father which mentioned himself. "I speak only as I believe, sir."

"Evidently." H. Laurens sits up straighter at his desk, picks up a pen from its inkwell and slides some papers closer to himself. "Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel, I imagine the General has many a task for you and I have my own matters to attend to."

"Sir," Hamilton says with another bow then turns and leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

Hamilton hangs onto the doorknob for a moment in the empty hall. He hears the sound of activity in the dining room, voices obviously preparing for dinner. Hamilton feels a tremor in his hand and grips more tightly to his hat under his arm. He mind races with Laurens – naked skin, heavy breath, dark corners, hurried moments, long nights, kisses, touches, intimacy of the kind which would find them both imprisoned – and Hamilton just met Laurens' father.

"Lord..." Hamilton gasps out.

He lets go of the doorknob and rubs his free hand over his forehead. Perhaps he should find somewhere in the city to lodge for their stay?

"Hamilton?"

Hamilton looks up to see Laurens descending the stairs, Meade behind him.

"Ah, Hamilton!" Meade says in a slight hush. "Did you impress the esteemed Congress president?"

Hamilton laughs once. "I could not say."

Meade grins. "I am certain you did. If any of us should, it would be you."

"Leave him alone, Kidder," Laurens chides, touching Hamilton's shoulder.

Meade only chuffs and wraps his arms around both their shoulders. "Come come, it is but us and the Old Secretary here with the General; we must endeavor to put the best face forward for the General's sake at least. I hear Philadelphia talk is quite fearsome."

"All society is so," Laurens counters. "But as now we have real work of our army to attend to, yes?"

Meade sighs and turns back up the stairs again.

Laurens looks long at Hamilton, glances at the closed door then back to him. "And?"

Hamilton forces a smile. "I feel I understand some of what you have said of him in the past."

Laurens presses his lips together then nods once. "He did not offend you in any manner?"

Hamilton shakes his head. "He did not."

Laurens nods. "Good."

The pair of them follow Meade up the stairs, their pace slower.

Hamilton thinks back several hours past now. "About Lee..." Laurens looks at him as they reach the second floor. "I wonder if we should tell the General of what transpired?"

Laurens frowns. "In what sense?"

"In the sense that if we do not, someone else shall."

Laurens sighs, "We certainly know Lee capable of allowing his mouth to lead before his mind. But would he wish to speak of a duel he lost?"

Hamilton gives Laurens a look. "He behaved as honorably as you."

"Ha, despite his fervent desire to shoot at me a second time?"

"You were as adamant," Hamilton says in a hush as they near the upstairs library.

"Fine, as you say."

Hamilton grips Laurens' arm just before the door where they hear Meade and Harrison speaking. "I shall write a full account. I have it in mind at present and I would have none call you wrong for your actions."

Laurens nods once. "Then go to it, Hamilton."

The following morning Hamilton arises early to pen his account of Laurens' and Lee's duel. He wants the phrasing to be fair and accurate but clear to not injure either party over their actions. While Hamilton has no lasting regard for Lee, he would keep his account believable and that none might accuse him of favor toward his friend. He would have them both come out appearing as gentlemen of good conduct and the affair to be finished and of no more consequence to either party.

After only an hour and a half of writing, he considers himself satisfied then leaves the house to find Major Edwards. His inquiries at the state house and the nearest boarding house take little time to find the man in question.

"And you would like to add my signature?" Edwards says with some weariness in his tone, dressed only in his shirt and breeches due to Hamilton's early call.

"Yes," Hamilton replies. "If both our names appear there should be no sign of favoritism and all should be satisfied."

"Do you intend to publish this?" Edwards asks with some reservation as he reads.

Hamilton raises his chin. "At the very least I shall show it to his Excellency."

Edward clicks his teeth then picks up the pen from the small desk in his boarding room and signs his name beneath Hamilton's. "There."

"Thank you." Hamilton picks up the paper and quickly leaves the room should Edwards change his mind.

When Hamilton returns to the Laurens residence, the rest of the house appears to be awake and about their duties for the day. James bustles around the front parlor, speaking to another black woman with some rags in her hands. Hamilton watches for a moment and wonders at their ages. Did they know Laurens when he was young? James catches Hamilton watching and quickly looks away again.

Hamilton turns left instead toward the family parlor, which has been commandeered by Meade and Harrison, undoubtedly to allow the General the upstairs library as his own.

"Hamilton," Harrison says, pointing toward Hamilton with a ledger. "What have you been about in the city so early? Laurens looked for you."

"Which one, first or second?" Meade quips with a grin.

Hamilton and Harrison give Meade matching unamused looks.

Meade huffs. "Were Tilghman here he would laugh."

"I expect so," Harrison remarks. "And yet he remains in New Jersey with your wanted laughter."

Meade sighs dramatically.

"Where might John," Hamilton emphasizes, "Laurens be now?"

"Here."

Hamilton turns around to Laurens standing behind him in the door.

Hamilton smiles. "Hello."

"Good morning, early errands?"

"Of a kind." Hamilton glances back at Meade. "Is the General in?"

"He shall leave with Laurens senior for a meeting with Congress soon."

Hamilton looks at Laurens then back to Meade. "Thank you, Meade."

He turns and crowds Laurens out of the door again so they stand together in the hall. "I have the account for the General."

Laurens' eyebrows fly up. "Now?"

"We cannot guarantee who the General may speak with this day, would you rather it not be you first?"

Laurens clears his throat. "Yes."

Hamilton pokes his head back into the parlor. "Where might his Excellency be?"

Meade and Harrison both point their hands up at the ceiling without looking away from their work. Hamilton ducks back into the hall, squeezes Laurens' hand once then starts up the stairs, Laurens at his heel. They make their way to the library once more. Hamilton knocks on the closed door, his heart rate rising, then enters at the entreat from beyond.

"Sir," Hamilton says as the two of them walk in, Laurens closing the door behind them. "We have something we would request you read."

The General looks up from letter in his hand. He stands and takes the folded paper from Hamilton. "And what is it?"

Hamilton clears his throat again. "An account from myself of the duel which transpired between Colonel Laurens and General Charles Lee yesterday afternoon."

General Washington stops cold with the paper only half-unfolded. His eyes slide up slowly to lock on Laurens a step behind Hamilton. The three of them stand in silence for what feels like an eternity but must be no more than ten seconds.

"And what was the nature of their disagreement?" Washington asks clearly to Hamilton though his eyes remain on Laurens. To his credit, Laurens keeps the General's eye contact.

"My account does include –"

"I am asking you now, Hamilton," the General interrupts, still unmoved.

Hamilton pulls himself up more to attention. "Lieutenant Colonel Laurens called out General Lee over the General's defamation and insult of your person, your excellency."

The General turns his head toward Hamilton for a moment. Hamilton sees in an instant General Washington is furious. Hamilton wonders if he may have miscalculated. Washington opens the paper the rest of the way and reads. Neither Hamilton nor Laurens move an inch while the General reads what Hamilton wrote.

After a couple minutes pass, the General folds the paper back up and clutches it in his hand. "Lieutenant Colonel Laurens."

"Yes sir."

"General Lee has already received the censure he deserved by Court Martial during which you and Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton both testified. Was this not resolution enough for your sensibilities?"

"It was not his actions on the field, though grevious and deserving of the sentence that he received, for which I met him but his personal remarks on your character and command, sir. He wrote and speaks of you –"

"He may speak as he pleases, Lieutenant Colonel," Washington interrupts. "I am much talked of, as I have been throughout this war. Do you mean to challenge all those who speak ill of me?"

"Sir, Lee's words were –"

"His to speak or publish and not ours to police. We have a war which requires our attention, my full attention, your attention, your friend Hamilton's attention instead of acting as your second or dueling in the woods. I do not need your honor to defend mine. You would do better to obey my commands and fulfill your duties here."

The General pauses for a moment in while neither Laurens nor Hamilton choose to speak.

"Am I plain in your understanding now, sirs?" He looks at Hamilton. "Both of you?"

"Yes sir," they say at once.

Washington breathes in sharply then holds out the paper to Hamilton which he takes.

"While I do not condone your actions, Lieutenant Colonel," he addresses Laurens. "I will allow some pleasure at your honorable behavior during the action itself, misjudged as it may have been."

Laurens nods once but wisely does not reply.

"Dismissed," the General says curtly.

The two of them turn quickly and march from the room, shutting the door behind them. They stand in the hall for a moment before they turn their heads and look at each other. Laurens smiles slowly and Hamilton lets out a surprised laugh.

"I am quite surprised he did not expel me from the family on the spot."

"Or myself," Hamilton adds, "for simply helping you,"

"Do you think he may have been secretly pleased?"

Hamilton shakes his head. "No."

Laurens sighs, his face falling some. "I felt the same but I cannot change my actions now and I would rather he know of them as you wrote."

"You have not even read it," Hamilton says, holding up the page.

Laurens shakes his head. "Not now, I shall read it when the General's voice stops ringing in my head."

Hamilton huffs once and smiles. "You expect it to stop?"

Laurens only chuckles. "We should return to our duties."

Hamilton nods and they walk back down the hall. As they reach the top of the stairs, the door to the library opens again. Laurens has already started down the stairs but Hamilton stops at the top. The General leaves his office then stops with his hand on the doorknob. He looks at Hamilton for a moment then he nods. Hamilton forces himself not to smile as he nods back then follows Laurens down the stairs.

Hamilton and Laurens rejoin Meade and Harrison in the downstairs parlor. The other two men have moved two of the large tables together and arranged some chairs around them so they have a place to work. The four aides spend the day, while the General and H. Laurens attend Congress, organizing reports on troops, supplies and past engagements with the British to present to Congress. The General, as expected, is still under intense scrutiny from Congress. Matters of cost are unavoidably at the forefront of the discussion so Hamilton find himself totaling accounts from past stays in New Jersey, monies given and still owed, the nuts and bolts which have little to do with the blood of battle.

It is not until the hour nears late and the supper is far into preparation at the rear of the house that they hear the front door open and the sound of voices. Hamilton looks up at the door, which soon presents General Washington.

"Harrison."

Harrison looks up and stands from his chair. "Sir, I have some lists and accounts ready for you."

"Very good, I undoubtedly have more to add to your queue."

Harrison smiles. "Of course."

He follows Washington out the door again already speaking rapidly about solider salaries.

Hamilton glances at Laurens who sits across from him. "Would we imagine the Congress planning to suspend the common soldier's pay until another battle is won?"

Laurens shakes his head. "Perhaps we shall have to sink the island of England and they shall be satisfied."

"Come, be positive," Meade says with a chuckle, "patriotism is pay enough which we may all relish."

"John!"

Hamilton, Laurens and Meade all start in surprise at the sudden and curt call of Laurens' name. They turn to see Henry Laurens standing in the door. Laurens stands up quickly.

"I would speak with you," H. Laurens says to his son.

Hamilton sees Laurens' jaw suddenly clench.

"Sir, if I may," Hamilton says standing as well, knowing what the conversation must be tending toward.

"You may not," H. Laurens snaps at Hamilton then turns to Laurens. "John."

He turns out of the door leaving Laurens to follow. Laurens does not look at Hamilton as he walks from the room.

"What ever is the matter?" Meade hisses to Hamilton.

Hamilton, however, does not answer him. He stands and moves carefully to the doorway. He sees the tail of Laurens' coat disappear into his father's study and the door close behind them. Hamilton closes the parlor door behind him then walks quietly across the hall. He stands outside the study door next to the hinges should the door open suddenly and he need to escape. He listens carefully, knowing he should not, but if he could, he would be inside the room standing beside Laurens as his second once more.

It is not long before the voices inside grow louder and become audible enough for Hamilton to hear so close to the gaps in the doorframe.

" – and you think such behavior is honorable –"

"You call it not so? You who has stood in my same place, who has accented to duels in the past? Do you call yourself not honorable?"

"I admit I have acted the same in my youth but I would raise you better than my past mistakes."

"Ah yes, do as I say not as I do?"

"No not address me so, sir! I am still your father! You think that your standing in a wood with a gun pointed at superior officer to be –"

"A superior officer? No longer so, sir, or have you forgotten his court martial?"

"You know well my intention in saying so and you will not twist my words to condone your actions. You, not he, began this affair! And I the president of this Congress have to hear your name in such a manner? My son dueling!"

"I felt it necessary to defend the name of our army's commander against such defamation."

"And you felt wrongly, sir! Have I not taught you enough to know your proper place? What if you should have shot him dead? What should your honor be then?"

"Father..."

"I cannot understand your actions! There would be any manner of way to show respect of a man that does not involve shooting at another."

"I acted as I saw suited the offense."

"Not your offense to take!"

"Father..."

"I must assume that this is the influence of the army upon you. I aimed with your position as aide–de–camp to keep you away from your own headstrong, patriotic fervor, to avoid such injury, and yet I see it is for naught."

"I would fight for our country, as you have, as any man should!"

"And dueling is incumbent upon this? Is this that Hamilton to whom you have become so close? I hear such mystery about his past, might he be –"

"Hamilton has not such sway over my actions, sir, and I will not allow you to discredit his name in any fashion based upon what I have done. Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton is a fine officer and a perfect gentleman. He, in fact, tried valiantly to dissuade me from my choice, to show me the error of my intentions in planning to duel General Lee. So if you must call one of us bad in our influences you may lay such blame at your own son!"

The room beyond the door falls silent for several breaths which Hamilton cannot take. Then the voices quiet some, just snippets Hamilton can hear.

"... your choices are your... cannot change now... a son of mine..."

"And it is done… I will leave you sir."

Hamilton hears the doorknob turn and the door opens. Laurens steps into the hall and slams the door behind him. The mirror to the door's right shakes from the impact. Hamilton waits on the other side, watching Laurens carefully.

Laurens glances down at him, his breath fast and his hands shaking. "Alexander..."

"John."

Laurens looks at Hamilton for a moment. Hamilton wants to tell him he spoke well, to tell him he need not heed his father's harsh words, to tell him that Laurens will always be good and honorable in his eyes. Then Laurens sucks in a deep breath and marches past Hamilton. He takes the stairs quickly, skipping a few so Hamilton nearly runs to keep up. He follows Laurens down the hall to where Laurens turns into a bedroom and Hamilton closes the door behind them. The room is sparse, not one made up for their stay, no sheets on the bed and a dust cloth over the dresser and chairs.

"Laurens..."

"Stop," Laurens interrupts. "You need not tell me all you heard. I was in the room. I know the nature of his censure."

"I did not hear all and I would not say such."

Laurens faces the window, his hands fisted at his side. The sun has set but light from the street lamps reaches the window and makes shadows in the room.

"John... you have not acted dishonorably," Hamilton begins. "You took a risk and the result has been favorable. Your father may speak ill of it and the General may have also expressed his displeasure but you acted a gentleman and should not be ashamed."

Laurens slides his hands up to rest them on his hips, his head tilted low. Hamilton sees a few hairs escaped from the tie about the whole to hang in his face.

Hamilton moves closer, a step behind Laurens. "I heard you speak for me at your father's intimation I may have led you astray."

Laurens laughs suddenly. "Ah, if he only knew."

Hamilton chuckles too and rubs his hand over the back of Laurens' neck. "I imagine the rebuke to be far worse should he learn even a hint."

Laurens makes a gasping sort of noise, abruptly stepping away from Hamilton's touch, then pulls one hand up to cover his eyes. Hamilton thinks he should not have said what he did.

Hamilton's relationship with his own father is distant and intermittent, full of past pain but wholly different from what Laurens has, a father who is present and harsh and asks for what he calls best from Laurens.

"I wish we were not here," Laurens says quietly. "Would that we were back in New Jersey."

He drops his hand from his eyes and reaches behind him without turning toward Hamilton.

Hamilton steps close again against Laurens' back and grips his hand. "It shall not be long. Congress should not wish to interrogate the General all winter."

They stand still together for a time, Hamilton rubbing circles over Laurens' back, occasionally thumbing the skin of his neck above his collar.

Laurens finally says, "I have never spoken to my father so vehemently before. I have not been in his presence for some time and when he spoke your name as he did, I simply..."

"Yes?" Hamilton asks into Laurens' pause.

"He should not presume to know you."

"He should not."

"Nor should he presume to know all of me."

"No."

Laurens lets go of Hamilton's hand then turns around. Hamilton cannot see his face as well as he should like in the darkness. "Alexander, I..."

Hamilton waits, keeps his questions at bay. He half wants to march downstairs once more and tell Henry Laurens what he can do with all of his insults and rebukes.

"I am sorry I caused you worry with my affair of honor with General Lee," Laurens says in a rush. "It is the only part I shall regret."

Hamilton smiles slowly. "I forgive you."

Laurens laughs once as if he should have expected Hamilton's rejection. He grips Hamilton by the back of his neck, pulls him in and kisses him quickly. He rests his forehead against Hamilton's with a heavy sigh.

"My Jack," Hamilton says quietly running a hand over Laurens' hair. "I shall always think the best of you," he murmurers, "I know you well. You are a good man."

Lauren huffs. "Are any of us good men?"

"If any man may be called good then it should be you."

"Despite this, despite our… feelings?"

Hamilton's jaw clenches and he breathes out slowly, Laurens close against him, not something he could ever call bad.

"Because of them, Jack."

"Alexander..."

"I shall never call you something bad and I think not all beliefs in the world to be right; my care for you and yours for me is not something to make you less good. Trust me."

"I trust you," Laurens whispers.

"Then believe me."

Laurens leans back. "Where should dueling in the wood place me then? Still a good man?"

Hamilton chuckles at the levity returned to Laurens' voice. "Well, as you came out the victor and Lee asked for the second shot, I should say you the better man."

"Ah." Laurens rubs his thumb over Hamilton's neck. "Then I should want nothing more in the world if you should think me the better man."

"The best man."

Laurens' smiles small and shy and not something Hamilton thinks he could ever see without wanting to kiss it. So he leans in and kisses Laurens until Laurens sighs and wraps his arms around Hamilton's waist.

"Ah, Alex..." he says against Hamilton's lips.

"John?"

Laurens pulls back. "We should descend downstairs once more before my father sends James after me. I am afraid we shall have even less privacy here in a house that knows me."

Hamilton nods and pulls them apart. "As you wish."

"I do not wish..."

Hamilton chuckles. "Then as we must."

Laurens nods. "Yes."

Laurens walks around Hamilton and opens the bedroom slowly, always careful at their chance of being observed. He turns back to Hamilton and takes a step into the hall to allow Hamilton room.

Hamilton steps out beside him then says. "Laurens?"

"Hmm?"

"If you could avoid any future duels I would be more appreciative."

Laurens laughs once loudly in surprise. He shakes his head. "I shall do my level best, Hamilton."

"Very good."

"And you should do the same, lest I be able to rebuke you as you did me."

Hamilton chuckles and hooks his arm around Laurens', leading him down the hall toward the stairs. "I think I should have had my fill of duels through you, Laurens, thank you."

"Good, I would not wish a chance at losing you, Alexander."

Hamilton looks up at Laurens, this man who defended him against his own father, who would kiss him, hold him close over all others, who is honorable and good and beautiful and his. "You shall not lose me, John."