Nine

Alexander bristled. He turned to Aaron, keeping Asgore in the corner of his eye as the monster prepared another magic attack. "I will never understand you!" he hissed, snatching the pan from Aaron, "Why do you keep standing to the side?"

"How do you know this will work?" Aaron whispered. Fretful, he watched Alexander take careful aim with the pan. (In addition to being a handy weapon, it made the food more palatable. Important, considering how much they needed to just stay alive.) "He's king, and we barely make dents in him..."

"That's why we're not throwing away our shot!" Aaron tugged a distracted Alex away from a column of fire. "He destroyed the MERCY button, anyway," Alex pointed out, rolling his eyes. "To go back to our nation, we studied and we fought. And now, we kill." He readied the pan, smirking. "Besides, it's not the first time our odds against a king have been beyond scary."

"Maybe we need to keep talking to him!"

Alex frowned. "Won't do any more good."

They continued their intricate dance of attacking, dodging, attacking. (And arguing - "Why'd you push me?" "His attack was orange; move!" and "Burr, why are you just standing - ow!" as another blue attack swept by.) During a spare moment when they split a Bisicle, Aaron looked at Alexander. He, for all the world, seemed to be enjoying this. Washington's right hand man right in his element.

But Aaron couldn't shake the feeling that they were missing something. (If Alexander thought so, too, he talked less and smiled more.)

Too soon (for Aaron, at least) Asgore the king was on his knees - "I just want to see my wife. I just want to see my child." - and Alexander, the bastard orphan, was on his feet, pan in hand.

"Wait!" But Aaron was too late, and Asgore's body was already dissolving into dust. "Why did you do that?"

"It was the right thing to do." Alexander's voice wobbled. "He wanted to see his child again." He tilted his head back and blinked rapidly.

They were silent, as the cold light of twilight shone through the barrier. "I'm sorry," Aaron whispered. Before he could ask how they were going to get out now, bullets surrounded a white heart…

Aaron sighed and took the pan back. (He would remember this as one of the few times Alexander Hamilton was speechless.)