Shot Fired

Disclaimer 1: I don't own anything from the musical Hamilton and I'm not making any money from this fic

Disclaimer 2: This fic is only based on the musical Hamilton and has nothing to do with the real-life historical figure of Hamilton; or indeed any of the other historical figures who appear in the musical

Summary: Burr shoots, but only wounds Hamilton. Later, he approaches his one-time friend for forgiveness

Warning(s): Spanking; spoilers for the musical Hamilton; AU; mentions of violence

Author's Note: This is another plot bunny that nibbled at me until I gave it attention. Another one in the Twenty Fics


The gunshot sounded abnormally loud. Burr watched as the gun fell from Hamilton's hand; as the other man slumped, blood gushing from the wound in his shoulder.

There was movement and then people were rushing to Hamilton's side. No one was paying attention to Burr; which was for the best as, now he'd shot his one-time friend, the sense of guilt was like a stab to the heart and he didn't know how he could face anyone, let alone Hamilton, who he could see would survive… even from where he was standing. The blood flow had been staunched and even though Hamilton's face was pale, the glimpses Burr had of him didn't indicate he was in danger of losing his life.

Hamilton had aimed at the sky. Burr had convinced himself the other man wanted him dead and had fired accordingly. Now he knew how wrong he was, he felt a combination of relief and guilt.

Hamilton's wound would be stitched and provided it did not become infected, he would recover. He would recover, while his son had not; even though both had taken the same actions.

Perhaps he was more of a coward than Hamilton. Certainly, Burr knew he couldn't face him. He'd not had the strength to aim at the sky and trust in honour and friendship. And now? Now, he didn't have the courage to face the man he'd wounded.

No one was watching him. Not one person saw Burr slip quietly away, aching with the knowledge that, even though he hadn't killed Hamilton, he was still going to be seen as the villain.


Rumours of Hamilton's condition spread through the streets. Burr listened enough to assure himself the other man would survive; but otherwise, he kept his distance from most of the people who knew the actions he'd taken. It helped that he could be there for his daughter. Knowing she needed him; that she didn't blame him, even though she had to have heard the whispers.

It was another seven days before Burr heard anything more of Hamilton. He knew both Eliza and Angelica had been at Hamilton's side as he recovered, but there was talk the older had returned to her home, since Hamilton's life was now no longer in danger.

Burr had taken to walking the streets on his own late at night, when no one else was awake and his thoughts and guilt kept him from sleep. He walked them now, head down as he struggled to focus through his own emotions.

Dawn's light began to break over the horizon. Burr realised as the rays began to light the streets around him. Through that light, he also became aware his feet had taken him along a familiar path. He now stood outside Hamilton's home, looking up at the building. It would be easy to turn around and retreat. Easy, but wrong.

He couldn't continue refusing to face the other man.

As Burr walked to the door, he thought about what he was about to do. If he truly wanted to speak with his former friend, he should send a message to Hamilton and wait for a response… or a lack of one, which would be a reply on its own.

Burr braced himself. He raised his fist and knocked on the door, preparing himself for Eliza to answer and send him away… for Hamilton to answer and… what? He wasn't even sure.

For a while, there was nothing. Burr thought about walking away. No answer was still an answer. And he wouldn't have to come back, because he'd tried. He could almost convince himself he would be willing to accept the end of their friendship if Hamilton wasn't prepared to forgive him.

The door was opened, pulling Burr out of his thoughts. He took a deep breath as he met gazes with Hamilton. Alexander Hamilton.

Every word… every apology… every explanation… disappeared. Burr couldn't find any words. He wanted to turn and run. He wanted to apologise. He wanted… he wasn't sure what he wanted to do.

"You look tired."

Startled, Burr's gaze darted towards Alexander's face. The other man was watching him with concern. There was no pain on his face and his skin was back to its normal colouring. He didn't know what to do about the concern he could hear, so he ignored it. "You've recovered?"

Alexander gave a single nod. "Come in." He stepped back from the door. "Eliza is still sleeping… come into the parlour," he invited.

Somehow, Burr knew that, if he stepped inside, he wouldn't be able to continue running away. If he walked into Alexander's house, he would have to face how he had wronged his friend. It would be so easy to turn and run. Easy… and wrong. He stepped inside the house, following Alexander through to the parlour.

"You didn't come to see me." Alexander didn't speak until they were inside the room. His voice was quiet, without accusation or blame.

But Burr's own mind carried enough blame for both of them. "I didn't want to upset you."

"No," Alexander corrected. "You didn't want to see what we wrought."

Burr shook his head. "It was my responsibility. My doing."

"It takes two to duel."

"I should have aimed at the sky."

The words lingered between them. Burr couldn't meet Alexander's eyes. He was filled with too much shame… guilt… pain.

"You are my friend, Aaron. No matter what the past has been between us, your friendship has always been important to me," Alexander said quietly. "There is a lot that has happened between us. One of us could have easily been killed in the duel. But we both live. And I'm thankful for that. I would prefer to live the rest of our lives with peace between us."

"I would like that as well," Burr admitted.

"Then…" Hamilton stepped past Burr, pushing the door closed, before turning back to him. "You stayed away from me because you felt guilty. And that's the main thing that brought you here, isn't it?" His hands went to his belt and he removed it.

Burr took a step backwards. "I won't let you thrash me."

"I could lay you across my knees, but I would have thought you'd prefer to be punished as a man and not a child."

Burr opened his mouth to deny it; to claim he didn't need to be punished at all. But the words caught in his throat. He did feel guilty. He did believe he deserved to be punished. If he didn't, Alexander's actions wouldn't fill him with such relief.

He'd nearly killed his friend. It wasn't something he could just let go of.

Burr didn't say anything. He didn't have to. He walked to the wall and placed his hands on the brick, staring at one particular point and tensing as he waited for the first strike of the belt.

He didn't have long to wait. Alexander's hand settled on his lower back and a second later, the belt landed hard across his backside.

Burr jerked, but bit his lip against making a sound. When the second and third strikes landed, his teeth sank hard enough to draw blood. But he managed to hold still and keep silent as the belt continued down to his thighs.

When the belting began to cover already marked skin, Burr couldn't stay silent or still. He shifted from one foot to the other, groaning under his breath as tears filled his eyes.

Alexander didn't speak and all Burr could do was try to breathe through the painful thrashing and not lose control of himself completely. But the silence from his friend made him feel alone. The belt was painful, but nothing compared to the pain of his guilt… and nothing compared to how guilty he would have felt had Alexander died.

"We both made mistakes, Aaron." Alexander's voice was soft, but still audible over the snap of the belt. "And I know we don't share the same beliefs… but your friendship is still important to me. And I would like to keep it. I don't want you to stop visiting me… to stay away from me."

Burr breathed out and found himself crying harder. His body slumped against the wall and his entire bottom and thighs felt as if he'd sat in a fire. It had been a long time since he'd cried like this; but with his tears, he felt the guilt begin to leave him.

When the thrashing finally came to a stop, Burr stood slowly, turning face Hamilton. "Thank you." His voice was quiet but firm… and he could finally look his friend in the eye.

The End