Author Note: This story is located on Archive of Our Own, my platform of choice for my new and consistently updated works. I highly recommend you follow/leave kudos/subscribe/bookmark over there if it so compels you along with here, as the support fuels my motivation to write and update this work. My username over there identical to the one here; the only different is that there are no spaces over on AO3.
In concerns to the contents of this chapter, despite the ideas presented by the characters, I am not nor will I ever be against Lams or it's being very canon both in the musical and probably in real life. As the note suggests, I explain much better in the End Chapter notes if you'd like to read that before this chapter!
Chapter Summary: Eliza has to answer to those she came across the sea with, and frets over the well-being of those she had to leave behind. Alexander Hamilton enters his own narrative and makes valuable friends who will well shape his life going forth.
Eliza did not care what all the talk in England was; she felt disgusting after a largely ruthless journey across the sea. She was grateful to fetch the washing basin from the back of their new home and fill it with freezing water, which she then she scrubbed every inch of herself in until she felt a new woman. After carefully combing her hair out and making sure there were no insects or grime, she tied it into a brunette braid that fell down her back, then it pinned underneath a freshly cleaned bonnet for the night before finally slipping into her shift. Her positive, rejuvenated mood faded as she walked into the sitting room, her gaze lowering when she saw the disapproving look her older sister was giving her as her younger sister nursed herself on some medicine bottle she'd clearly been given.
"Did you have fun with the colonist?" Angelica asked coolly.
"I learned much and laughed even more," the middle sibling replied easily, telling herself she didn't mind her sibling's stare. "I met a most remarkable group of young women, ones that reminded me much of ourselves. I do believe you'd quite get along with them."
"I am sure you are correct," the older mused before sighing, a small smile crossing her face. "You used to be such an obedient child. Now we get away from our parents and our siblings, and you run off without a second thought to your poor sisters that you left in the dust. What have you to say for yourself, Elizabeth?"
"All of our lives we had to live by the regime of corrupt powerhouses. Our parents had to do the same, and now we're here in the land of the free and you want to conform to rules that don't exist?" Eliza hopped to her feet and grabbed her older sister's hands. "Angelica, look around! Really, look around, and know how lucky we are to be alive right now!"
"History is happening in Manhattan and we just happen to be in the greatest city in the world," the eldest sister acknowledged with a tired sigh and loving smile.
"That's right!" Peggy chimed in before dissolving into a small coughing fit. "Pardon me, but this is the greatest city in the world! Let's make our futures our own for a change, why don't we?"
"Our futures have been in our own hands since we got on the ship," Angie reminded as she wrapped her arms around her sisters affectionately. "We'll be fine, but we need to at least check in with each other. I don't know what I'd do if something bad happened to either one of you."
"Hear here," the youngest of the trio agreed. "Betsey?"
Though she didn't like the idea of answering to anybody, she loved her sisters more than anything else; if it meant sacrificing her independence just enough to give them peace of mind, she would do it every time. "We're agreed."
With her family contented, the young adult took this opportunity to familiarize herself with their home. It was quite modest compared to the mansion they'd owned in London, but she was already adjusting to the less daunting corridors and fewer rooms that would house themselves and potential guests. She ran her hand against the wall, marveling at the cool stone that built the foundation to make this home stand two stories high. Her parents had spent so much to send them here for a better life, and while much of the effort landed on the trio to be admitted into the university, she longed for them to be with them in America along with her five younger siblings. She hated to think of them trapped in an oppressive country with a king who was quite crackers, and her uselessness to protect and keep them updated on the war that would inevitably rage through both countries.
"You miss them, don't you?" Her younger sister's voice inquired softly from behind her.
"Of course I do." She hugged herself and sighed, turning around with a sad smile. "I think they would love it here. Perhaps it's quaint, but if it meant they were here…"
"Papa has assured us time and time again they'll be on the next ship available to safely transport all of them to us," Peggy reminded, but it was clear the concern was weighing her down just as much. "We will simply have to be patient. Besides, if wartime really is on the horizon, I'd much rather them ration and be closed lipped over there than seek shelter and scavenge over here."
"You do have an excellent point," Eliza conceded, but she couldn't shake the troubled feeling. "We ought to send a letter tomorrow and let them know we made it alright."
"Will they allow mail to travel overseas now?" The younger reminded with a worried frown. "What if it gets them in trouble, having family over here right before war?"
"When the colonists first came to the Virginian colony, they all came from our homeland. All of the country has family over here," the older justified easily. "We'll just not talk too specifically and they'll be totally safe."
Her sister didn't look convinced, but she gave her a nervous smile and nod before bidding her a goodnight. Eliza retired to her own quarters, finding herself far too restless to sleep until she finally seized several pieces of parchment, one of her many quills, and her current jar of ink, settling into her new desk and burning the midnight oil to write all of her experiences thus far down to her parents. She, in the interest of the revolution, did not give names or plans, but she did talk quite a bit about her new friends under aliases, and discussed her hopes to attend new, exciting things in the colonies, such as their formal balls and strange games and recreations she'd seen children doing. She made it a point to designate space to talk to each family member directly, even young Catherine, who was not yet one, and signed off after nearly all of her supply had been expended with her new usual affectionate signature, that being 'Betsey' in her neat, flowing handwriting.
Much to her surprise, the sun had begun to rise by the time she set the papers out to dry. To avoid being scolded by Angelica, she quickly wiped her hands free of the ink and slid into her bed, snuggling underneath the fabric and slipping into dreams of her new life.
Alexander Hamilton was many things. He was an immigrant coming up from the bottom, a bastard, and a short-tempered man. However, he was not the son of a whore, and he had no problem punching the man who indicated it after his reputation began proceeding him only two months into entering the United States.
"At ease, soldier," a voice he didn't recognize commanded smoothly, and when he whipped around, he found a rather handsome fellow dressed well with a bald head and a steady expression. "Do not feed into a violent agenda. You are better than a drunk harassment call."
"I'm not a soldier," Alex grumbled, giving the pig a final condescending glare that sent him skittering back and out of the bar with his metaphorical tail between his legs. "What's it to you, anyway?"
"You're Alexander Hamilton," the man said with a patient smile. "I've heard much about you and I hate to see you dulling up your fantastical reputation. Please, sit, have a drink with my friends and I."
He gestured to a table where two other men sat, and Alex felt his heart skip a beat when caught sight of the handsome man with curly hair trying to drain a glass with one go. He quickly threw out the 'indecent' thought to walk with the gentleman who'd encouraged his calming down, skeptic as he settled onto a barrel stool.
"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't catch your name?" He extended.
The man smiled and sat down between his two comrades, rolling his eyes when the curly haired man loudly cheered for chugging the alcohol easily. "Aaron Burr."
"Hello there, you're Alexander Hamilton, right?" The man with a rag wrapped around his head greeted, smiling in a friendly, at-ease putting way. "Hercules Mulligan, tailor's apprentice and local rebellion joiner."
"It's nice to meet you as well, good-"
"I'm John Laurens!" The curly haired man announced, seizing Alexander's hand firmly and giving it a very firm shake. "I don't know if you know it, brother, but this is the place to be! Watch this: Those redcoats don't wanna with me, cause imma BAP CHIKA BLAP these cops till we're free!"
Alexander tensed, ready for somebody to call for said redcoats or to kick them out of the bar. Much to his astonishment, nobody batted an eye aside from a couple of people raising a glass to Laurens's notion, which made the freckled face man grin like the obvious maniac he was. Burr clearly shared his notion, grabbing his younger friend by the back of the waistcoat and pulling him to sit down with a firm look.
"This may be an anti-Loyalist establishment, but they can only enforce that through word of mouth from patrons," he scolded in a low, quiet voice. "If this place gets busted, we're all danger; keep it down!"
"Hmph. I still meant what I said," the man grumbled unhappily, but he seemed to light up again when he saw Alexander. "Hey, I know you! You're the guy that laid that Loyalist trash out with one punch!"
"He was Loyalist? Now I double don't feel bad for knocking his teeth loose," Alex replied with a grin. "Laurens, I like you a lot. What do you say we go create some mayhem sometime?"
"Hell yes!"
"Let's have another round for tonight," Hercules injected kindly, pushing the newly refilled glasses toward the gentlemen at the table.
Laurens seemed to finally have calmed down as they took long drinks of their brews, each of them too used to the hard concoction to have to cough or sigh. They discussed their lives thereafter, and while he had ample reason to trust these men, he tried to keep the conversation off of himself in favor of learning more about them. Aaron was a graduate of Princeton College at the rip age of sixteen, and was now enlisting in the rebellion in hopes of working with the higher ups to increase of social status and income. Hercules was a very talented tailor and wanted to socially advance and become more than a poor man, which resonated with all of them enough to drink again. Laurens was a man on fire, passionately opposing slavery and intending to create the first all-black battalion of soldiers for their freedom.
As the bar emptied out, John began to drunkenly sing something that sounded vaguely like a lullaby. "Raise a glass to freedom…Something they can never take away, no matter what they tell you~!"
"Raise a glass to the four of us!" Alex chimed in due to the alcohol in his system skewering his sense of alertness. "Tomorrow they'll be more of us! They'll tell the story of tonight~"
"Let's have another round tonight?" Hercules suggested, but Aaron, the clear and mostly sober voice of reason, interjected and sent all of them on their way back home with the firm suggestion they keep their noses clean until they could meet again.
Too intoxicated to walk alone, Alexander wrapped his arm around his new friend and stumbled into the town with him, their easily induced laughter loud and jokes full of things far too inappropriate for the daytime. The immigrant hadn't even realized he had no idea where his tiny loft was in the dark of night until they came to what was evidently John's home, which was a one bedroom, tiny house that he graciously invited him to spend the night in. He sat on the couch and accepted a loaf of bread and water, slowly consuming both until the room stopped turning and he felt tired enough to sleep.
Needless to say, he was more than shocked when his companion's lips pressed against his. This did not prevent him from returning the favor with more passion, and soon the two men were sprawled across his each other, kissing everywhere they could reach and pulling off his each other's shirts to reveal their bare upper torsos for more kissing. It was after this impromptu make out session that John looked to him, his hair fully undone and his lids heavy, a blush across his face and a nervous edge to his words.
"We don't have to tell anyone that happened, right?" He asked quietly. "I…I don't want to get committed for public indecency."
"But we're not in public," the slightly man breathed. "And the laws that exist because I look at men the same way I look at women are ridiculous."
"I know, I know," John acknowledged with an anguished smile. "But we are subject to that ancient law until we are free. Until then, my Alexander, we ought to abstain."
The notion made an ache appear in Alex's chest, right over where his heart ought to be. He wondered if this brilliant, gorgeous, excellent kisser of a man would be the end of him here and now, but he simply brushed the other's curls out of his face with a resigned sigh.
"Very well. Goodnight to you then, Mister Laurens?"
"And a goodnight to you, Mister Hamilton."
With that he was gone, disappeared into his bedroom with only a small glance back. He felt cold suddenly, like a warmth that should have been there had been removed too quickly, but he knew his now dearest friend was right. Homosexuality was a crime, and to continue would be detrimental to them both in the long run.
As he pulled the quilt over him and settled against the couch, he resolved that he'd find a way to make them both happy while keeping them both safe and prosperous, even if it took the entire Revolution to do it.
Post Chapter Notes: Gentle PSA stating that I, as a member of the LGBTQUA+ community, have no problem with homosexuality and ship Lams quite hard. However, for the sake of this role reversal and all the things I have planned, I have decided to keep (one of my other very favorite ships) Hamliza as the main protagonists' ship. Worry not, things will not always be as they same as the story continues, and I will tell you that in this narrative, a certain someone takes the place of the romantic interest that always lingers, even after very happy and very unhappy marriages alike occur~