Hey guys! Damn, its been like two years. I'm very sorry about that. I'm not going to bore you with my whole sob story, but a friend of mine died in summer 2017 and the whole thing was eerily similar to a fic I was working on at the time. I decided to take a break for my emotional health and it just got harder and harder to start again, but recently, I was reading some old fics with my friends, and I realised I really miss it! So, hey, I'm back!

Alex was lying in bed with Laurens when phone rang. Not his phone – not that he ever took it off silent anyway – but the outdated landline that Burr had bought them after Laf had ignored Thomas' texts for a full week. He sighed, running a hand through his dishevelled hair, and walked into their living room to answer it. Aaron Purr meowed as she gently tickled Alex's leg with her fluffy tail, before jumping into his bed with Laurens, who no longer hated the cat.

"Hi. Alex Hamilton. What's up?"

"Alexander Hamilton, you'll regret this."

Alex froze. He recognised the cold, slimy voice on the end of the phone, and it made his blood run cold.

"Thank you for this, Alexander. This is perfect. I'm adding defamation of character to my lawsuit, so I expect you'll be deported within the next few months. And, well, I'd enjoy New York whilst you can."

Alex dropped the phone, not registering the sound it made as it crashed to the floor. Everything was blurry. He could barely make out the huge French flag hung on the wall, or the faint buzz of Herc's sewing machine. He heard a voice, a voice he knew he loved but couldn't recognise, before everything went black.

John Laurens had always prided himself on not using his name or money to bully people. Unless he was in legal trouble, but, since that usually happened because he was defending others, it was an exception. Ever since Alex had made him watch Harry Potter, he'd considered himself a textbook Gryffindor. They'd actually been watching Fantastic Beasts the night before, and he'd ended up falling asleep in Alex's bed. That was a pretty regular occurrence – Laf had joked that they should get a fifth roommate. But, anyhow, he woke up in Alex's bed to a faint ringing sound that wasn't his phone.

Alex had recognised the noise, apparently, and gone to answer the landline. Why they had a landline, he had no idea. Probably something to do with that Burr guy. He buried his face in the pillows that smelt of everything he loved and groaned as that bloody cat jumped onto his back. Bloody Martha thinking he'd want a cat. Everyone knew he was a turtle person.

He was trying to go back to sleep when he heard the phone smash on the floor. Good on Alex, he thought. He'd considered throwing his phone at a wall a million times when telemarketers – or his dad – called. Except there was no yelling, or stomping, or anything else that normally happened when Alex had a tantrum. Huh.

Putting the cat on the floor, he stepped off Alex's bed. The floor was cold and covered in flashcards, as per usual. The cat entwined itself between his ankles and meowed. Something felt wrong.

"Alex?" he called out into the apartment. "Who was that?"

Alex was stood facing away from him, swaying slightly. Aaron Purr meowed and ran towards him, jumping over the phone, which was on the floor in two pieces. John followed, almost at a run – or as close to a run as he could get in their tiny Manhattan apartment. At any rate, he made it across the room just in time for Alex to collapse into his arms.

"Eliza? Eliza, honey, I need a favour."

Eliza sighed and headed down the spiral staircase to the main entrance of her house. Well, 'house' was a bit of an understatement, she supposed, but she met her father in the front room. He was wearing a a shirt and tie with a jacket on the back of his chair. She felt incredibly underdressed in the shorts and hoodie she'd slept in, which was an odd thing to be feeling in your own home.

"Darling, could you try and get hold of John for me? Henry Laurens just called, apparently that Hamilton boy didn't show up to work and neither of them are picking up.". Her father didn't even look up from his newspaper, but Eliza's heart was racing. Alex always picked up his phone. He'd reply to 3am texts within ten minutes, which was remarkable considering his phone was perpetually on silent.

She called him and John. No answer. Lafayette picked up, but he was jogging in central park. Mulligan's phone went straight to voicemail, and Angelica's did the same. She wanted to call Maria, but she knew she would be at work. Refusing to give up, she decided to go and see if they were home.

The short drive over to Columbia was uneventful, but Eliza was tense. She wasn't sure what she was going to find, and, anyhow, she hadn't seen Alex in a while. Maybe he'd have picked up if it had been Angelica calling? Maybe he didn't want to see her.

She climbed the steps to the apartment. As she reached out her first to knock, a hand tapped her shoulder. She turned around to see a horribly familiar face. The face she fell in love with. The face that destroyed her.

And that was the day that Elizabeth Schuyler punched Thomas Jefferson in the face.

So, what did you guys think? I'm pretty pleased with it, considering I just had a 29-month hiatus. When I was reading the whole thing back, I realised two things - 1) I was a cringey ass SJW when I was thirteen and 2) I needed to work on non-Alex POVs, which I've tried to do here. I also think I introduced the Eliza/TJeffs thing as a plot device for chapter 21 to help with the Lams development, which is pretty unfair to them, so we'll have some fun conflict next chapter!

I hope this was okay, and thank you for reading!

Kitty xxx